A Fate Touched in Middle Earth
by Vimesenthusiast
Summary: Following a disastrous battle in the Death Chamber, a grief-stricken and berserk Harry tackles Voldemort into the Veil of Death. After a fight for his soul, the death dimension eventually spits him and Voldemort out into an unknown realm. There, after dispatching Voldemort for a final time, Harry finds himself meeting Thorin Oakenshield. How... interesting. Eventual Harry/Eowyn
1. Chapter 1

**A Fate Touched in Middle Earth**

I don't own HP or Tolkien's realm.

Not certain where I wanted to put this crossover, since eventually it will encompass the Fellowship of the Ring, but put it here for now, since it is in no way certain that I will take up this story fulltime.

Nor, if I am honest, is it my best work I think. I wanted to show flashes of Harry's life in such a way that it didn't bog the story down, nor did I want to simply summarize them, but I just don't know if this style works. I've seen it done similarly, as well as in far larger scale in books, but… hell with it, I'll let you my readers decide.

As those of you who have read my other works know, I put up a poll some time ago to see what story people wanted me to take up as a smaller, third story, while I concentrated on Wild Wolf and ATP. At the same time, I told people that if they could argue their points, like in a debate team, they could PM me and thus gain their choice more points, which was one way to do so. The other I mentioned elsewhere, and not wanting to seem too desperate I won't do so again here. This was one of two new stories that ranked high in the poll, so I decided to put out a chapter for it and for the Star Wars crossovers one of which I would love to take up after WW is done to allow my readers to make a better informed decision. If you like this story over my other current stories or the top three story ideas in my poll, tell me so in your review. If you want to argue for this story over the other choices from the poll, PM me - think of this like you are on a debate team, and need to back up your side of the debate.

I'd like to thank Mordreek for his work as beta and all around Ideas Taster for this work. Without him it would not be nearly as good as it is.

Now without further ado...

 **Prologue: Into the Unknown**

Harry stared aghast as Hermione was hit by Voldemort's Avarda Kedavra. The sight of life fading from that face, that joyful, often times demanding, at times loving face, broke something inside of Harry. Yet in the strange chemistry of grief, it also caused his mind to recall when they had first become friends.

Flashback:

Harry scowled as he raced along the passageways of the Castle towards the bathroom that Lavender had told him Hermione was hiding in. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why didn't you stand up for her when Ron said all those mean things to her! You've been bullied too you know!_ And that was precisely why he hadn't, Ron was his first friend, or Harry thought he was a friend, though Ron was rather mean-spirited to other people at times. Despite that, Harry didn't want to ruin their friendship.

 _I still should've stopped him. I just hope I find Hermione before the troll does._ Harry had thought about getting Ron to help him, but he had run off to his brothers the moment they were told to head to their dormitories, and Percy was standing right there shouting orders. _And besides, would Ron have really wanted to help save Hermione after saying such mean things about her?_

Down the hallway Harry spotted the door to the lavatory where Lavender and Parvati had said Hermione was 'having a good cry' whatever that meant. Relieved, Harry didn't notice any troll around. But what does a troll even look like anyway? They hadn't covered that yet in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Shoving that thought to the side Harry barged into the lavatory, closing the door behind him with a click. "Hermione!" he hissed out, moving forward deeper into the girls lavatory. "Are you in here?"

There was sound of a sniffle, and a watery voice answered. "What are you doing in here? This is the girl's bathroom!"

"That doesn't matter right now!" Harry said. "Listen, there's a troll…"

That was as far as he got before the smell hit him. It hit Hermione too, as she gasped. "What is that…"

She in turn was interrupted as the door that Harry had just raced through was blasted open. What must have been the troll entered, sniffing loudly though how it could smell anything else over its own pong Harry didn't now.

The troll stood, shoulders hunching about 15 feet tall, with long arms scraping the ground, one clutching a massive club. It was bald, it's head thrust forward only slightly, with light green skin, and, thankfully, a loin cloth of some kind of fur. Its mouth was open, breathing deeply, showing several rotting, but still sharp teeth.

Right before the door had been smashed open, Harry had dived underneath the closest bathroom stall and he stared up at Hermione, who thankfully was taking cover just it like he was. Desperately he held up a finger to his mouth motioning her to be quiet.

She nodded, getting down on her belly and crawling underneath her stall into his before whispering into his ear. "What are we going to do?"

Harry frowned in thought then began to crawl towards the doorway through the stalls, motioning Hermione to follow quickly. They could hear the troll bashing the glass above the sinks for some reason. Harry wondered for just a moment if it thought the troll in the mirror was a challenger or something, there were some animals tricked by mirrors or glass right?

By the time they had reached the final stall between them and the door the troll had finished smashing the glass and was hooting and hollering, possibly in victory or anger Harry wasn't exactly in a position to tell. Because it had turned just at the right time to catch the two children out in the open.

"GRAHooo!" The club smashed down at them, and Harry desperately pushed Hermione back underneath the stall. Rolling after her Harry collided with her side as the club smacked into the ground where they had just been. Faster than Harry thought it could move, the troll then swept the club sideways, smashing into and through the side of the stalls sending splinters of wood careening everywhere.

Hermione screamed, and Harry was tempted to join her, but he stood up pushing the debris of the stall door off them. "Run for the door!"

With that Harry sprinted forward, dodging between the troll's legs and hitting it with a tickling charm that he had seen some of the older students using on one another in the common room. The spell didn't take, fizzling out after only a few moments, but that was enough time to let Harry get behind the troll. With no further spells coming to mind Harry jumped up onto the troll's back, climbing upwards as it tried to turn, reaching behind him to try and grab him.

"Will you run!?" Harry bellowed at Hermione, who was on the ground where he had left her, staring up at the troll. He ducked to one side, evading a grasp from the troll's hand, climbing up further and away from that hand as the troll desperately tried to turn, unwilling to let go of its club in its one hand and unable to grasp him with the other. It's shoulders and arms weren't very limber.

"What about you?"

"Just go! Get one of the teachers!"

Instead Hermione resolutely grabbed up her wand from where it had fallen among the debris, pointing it at the trolls club, which it had just raised to try and scratch Harry off its back with. "Wingardium Leviosa!" She intoned, swishing and flicking her wand as Professor Flitwick had shown them earlier that day. The oaken club had none of the troll's immunity to magic and the club lifted out of its hand, rising into the air. The troll looked at it stupidly for a moment reaching up to try to grab it but Hermione quickly flicked the club out of its way then back, smacking the troll in the face once.

"GRAGHHH!" The troll roared, then realized somehow that Hermione was the one moving the club. He reached out with both of its hands to grasp her.

Hermione screamed dodging to one side but her leg was caught in its grip and she was pulled up into the air. "EEK!"

By this point Harry was on its neck, staring aghast as it began to lift Hermioneinto the air. Frantically Harry jabbed his wand into the thing's nostril then began to pour his magic into it with no real spell in his mind just a thought of **Force!**

What came out of his wand wasn't a spell, but a stream of magic barely formed by that thought. Yet even so, it hit with all the power of a high-speed bullet, drilling through the trolls those and out of its head. It almost got Harry where he was hanging behind the troll's head and he gasped as his face and upper body was suddenly covered by foul-smelling gore.

The troll stumbled, dropping Hermione who squawked as she quickly covered her head to protect her from the impact on the ground, rolling and wincing through the debris of the stalls. The troll stumbled for a moment, one hand actually rising to touch its nose for a moment then it collapsed, slamming into the ground with enough force to send most of the debris from its rampage up into the air for a moment, tossing Harry forward and breaking his grip on its back.

For a moment he lay there groggily, then he was pulled to his feet as two arms went around his shoulders hugging him fiercely. "Thank you! I don't know what you did, but if you hadn't, I mean if you hadn't been here…!"

" **What** is going on here?!" said a voice from behind them.

Both youngsters turned to stare at the doorway into the lavatory, where Professor McGonagall and Snape were standing. Before Hermione could speak up Harry said "Hermione was not at the feast professor, she was in here and didn't know about the troll so I came to find her but it found us before we could get away."

The professor scowled angrily. "And why Ms. Granger, were you not at the feast?"

"I was feeling rather sorry for myself professor." Hermione said looking away. "Homesick. I'd just come in here to have a good cry."She looked at Harry desperately, trying to make him understand that she didn't want to say that Ron had been bullying her. She'd been bullied before, it wasn't anything new to her, though someone going out of their way to help her like this was very new.

But Harry shook his head resolutely. "That's not true professor. Well it might be true a bit, but Ron Weasley was, well he said a lot of hurtful things to Hermione after she tried to help him in Charms class. I should've stopped him then, but…" he shrugged uncomfortably.

"It sometimes takes more courage to stand up to one's friend than it does to a stranger or an enemy." The professor said nodding her head though her eyes were glinting dangerously. That look promised Ron would not get off scot-free for his bit of bullying.

Snape however had moved over to the corpse of the troll. It was indeed a corpse not simply unconscious as both teachers at first assumed. "Exactly how did you kill this troll, Potter?"

Harry shivered a little, realizing he had just taken a living creature's life. He felt Hermione's arms around his shoulders tighten, and he smiled shyly then, realizing this must be a hug, he'd never had one of those before. The Dursleys hadn't physically abused him, at least not often, but they had never shown him any affection or love either. Hermione smiled encouragingly back at him, squeezing him even tighter around the shoulders.

With that Harry turned back to the professor who he'd quietly loathed since the first class with him. "I don't know professor, I didn't use any spell really. I just jabbed my wand into its nose and, and tried to sort of force my magic through it."

The professor nodded slowly, while McGonagall moved around him staring in shock at the hole in the trolls head and then up at the ceiling where the hole continued. With a wave of her wand that hole was repaired, and then she looked down with distaste at the wand still sticking out of the troll's noses.

A fastidious flick of her wand pulled it out with a 'glorp' sound, and another intoned spell cleaned it before passing it back to Harry. "I suggest Mr. Potter that the next time you try to take on a fully grown mountain troll, you have some defensive spells under your belt first. As to Ron Weasley, I will have words with him if he has been putting other students down like that."

Harry looked at her askance, knowing that several of Malfoy's crew had done the exact same thing in the great hall or in the hallways before this. But he supposed that maybe they had to be caught in the act if they weren't in a teacher's own house? So he simply nodded.

The professor went on, smiling slightly at both children. "Now I suggest you both head down to the infirmary and let Madame Pomphrey look you over. And Potter, for saving a friend 25 points to Gryffindor."

As she escorted the two down to the infirmary Hermione nudged Harry's shoulder with her own. "Thanks."

Harry nodded, nudging her back. "You're welcome. I'm, I'm just sorry I didn't…"

Hermione shook his head. "Ron's your friend I understand that." She scowled a little. "I don't know if he'll ever be mine but…"

"Could you tried to get along? I'll try and stop him from saying such hurtful things again, but…" he paused and looked at her for a moment. "I know you're trying to help, but your voice, it was, it was like you were trying to talk down to him or something."

Hermione's scowl deepened then she relented. "I'll try to tone my, what did he call it,'bossiness' down a bit. But," she said smiling a little grimly poking Harry in the shoulder. "In return, I want to see you put as much effort into actual schoolwork as you do in not seeming smart."

Harry raised one eyebrow in surprise and Hermione laughed. "I know you don't care much for the written portions, but I've seen you practice spell work and I know you pick up the actual spells quickly if you put your heart into it. I'll even help you with the writing portion if that's slowing you down, but I don't want you holding packing class anymore. Are you doing that just so Ron doesn't feel left out?"

"No." Harry replied. "It's just…" he paused trying to think of the words to explain several years of being ignored, of being put down, of being called a freak. How if he scored better than Dudley his chores would redouble, and what little freedom he had would disappear while Dudley would step up his Harry Hunting. How no one else helped him, or noticed anything wrong so he had just decided to fade into the background as much is possible.

Hermione poked his shoulder again much more gently this time. "Please? I know you're smarter than you let on. I'd like a challenge in our house you know. The only ones that really push me are in other houses and that's kind of silly. Just because we're brave doesn't mean were idiots."

Harry laughed, then nodded his head. "All right, if you'll help me with the writing portion and promise to stop and think before you try to give out advice unless you're asked, I'll try to stop holding back in class."In response Hermione smiled brightly, nodding her head.

End Flashback:

To one side of the dimly lit room housing the Veil of Death, most of the Defense Association was hiding behind several conjured boulders. Having had the time to prepare the battlefield while Harry led the more experienced members of the DA to search out Sirius, they were using the cover to good effect against the Death Eaters that had appeared from both ends of the room springing the ambush.

The ones that had chased Harry from their own ambush point had taken severe losses already, though they were fighting back well enough having conjured their own cover, and being the so-called Inner Circle of Voldemort, his best and most experienced fighters. The second group that had appeared from the other end of the room had lost a few as well, though Voldemort had blocked or redirected some of the DA's initial assault however. Then Aurors and other ministry personnel had shown up, attacking all and sundry, causing more confusion then actual harm to either group. But Voldemort used the confusion to stride grandly into the center of the room, throwing out a Bombarda which destroyed some of the conjured boulders, before catching Hermione with an Avarda Kedavra while she ducked for cover.

One of the girls hiding nearby let out a scream, and more than one boy's voice was raised in a disbelieving shout, but even so Harry didn't look away from Hermione's body **.**

Nearby Susan fell to the floor with a roar of mixed pain and fury as she took her opponent down at the same time with a vicious triple spell chain, opening with a wide area _Stupefy_ followed by a _Difindo_ before finishing with a _Bombarda_ spell cast at the masked man's feet that flung his battered body backwards. His mask fell away revealing that he was Walden McNair, the Ministry executioner for dangerous animals. But putting him down cost Susan, and she collapsed, one leg almost sawed off by some kind of cutting spell the man had sent back at her, hitting her with it even as she dodged to one side after losing the same cover that Hermione had previously been using. She was still alive thanks to a hasty blood-clotting spell from one of the others, but out of the fight.

Harry absently sent of _Rifela_ spell towards Walden's head, finishing him off. The spell left a neat, round whole right through his forehead, a much cleaner death than the man really deserved. But Harry still couldn't tear his eyes away from the body of his best friend, of his Hermione, falling to the ground. _No!_

Flashback:

"I wonder which of us is going to get the best score at the end of the year? I mean I know I'm behind in the practical on transfiguration, but in actual spell casting I think I'm good," said a slow, drawling voice, it's English only slightly accented.

Harry smiled at Blaise, who he'd surprisingly made friends with since this study group it started. He, Daphne and Tracy, her friend and confidant, were from Slytherin House, but they had joined Hermione's study group. Whether this was because they were brave enough to dare being mingling publicly with other houses , or neutral in the conflict between him and Malfoy, Harry didn't know.

The study group actually crossed all house lines. Susan and Justin from Hufflepuff and Padma and initially two boys represented Ravenclaw, but the boys had dropped out quickly after they learned the others wouldn't let them take the lead in organizing the group. Hermione, Harry himself, and Neville, along with Parvati occasionally, represented Gryffindor.

It had been Hermione who'd organized the whole thing. Apparently she, Padma and Daphne had started a bit of a competition almost the first day of school, all of them aiming to be the highest scorers in the year. But despite being in different houses it was somehow a friendly competition. Harry and the others had come into the group long after that, with Harry joining two weeks after Halloween.

By this point Hermione was ahead in their competition by a measly half-point. She lead the other two girls strongly in transfiguration, but falling behind slightly in Defense Against the Dark Arts, potions obviously and even history and Charms to Daphne and Padma respectively. The blonde pureblood was near the tops in charms and was good with the written portions of every class, but her transfiguration practical wasn't up to par. Padma was excellent across the board, actually a little better at the written assignments than Hermione, but her practical let her down in everything but Charms.

"I don't know, I think all the girls have us poor boys beat." Harry said with a laugh.

"Oh please Potter." Tracy scoffed from where she had been sitting behind Daphne. She wasn't as interested in academics as her friend, at least not this year. She was apparently deeply interested in runes however, which was a class they would be taking in third year. "Everyone knows that you're the tops when it comes to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not even our resident bookworm has been able to knock you off that pedestal."

Harry blushed, hunching his shoulders before he felt an elbow in his ribs from both sides. Susan had picked up on the fact that Harry tried to downplay his abilities, tried to fade into the background and with Hermione's help had begun to force him out of his shell. Justin helped too at times, astonished that someone who had as much same as Harry being so self-effacing.

"It's true Harry and you know it." Hermione said half-chiding him slightly. Harry was easily able to pick up how to do a spell, even if he couldn't quite explain how it worked. And ever since the troll incident Harry had been devouring every book in the library he and Hermione could find on defensive spells.

Madame Pince had stopped them from picking up many, but Harry knew that the two of them were at least a year, possibly a year and a half ahead of the material that the rather ineffective Quirell was teaching them. Only Susan, who had been getting training since she was ten from her aunt, the head of Aurors, could come close, and she didn't have Harry's raw power.

"I think you'll do very well Harry." Susan said nodding in agreement. "In fact." she said smiling over at Justin who was sitting on her other side. "I bet you'll score the best out of all the boys."

The three boys looked at one another and then said together "Isn't that the same way as saying you girls are better than us?" At which point the group devolved into good-natured bickering.

End flashback:

 _ **No!**_ With a wrench of will Harry turned away from the body of his best friend, staring out through the tumult of battle to where Voldemort still stood. Across from him however was another figure Harry would have happily seen in the grave. Dumbledore had finally arrived with his Order of the Phoenix, throwing in with the Defense Association and Ministry personnel as they fought the Death Eaters. The Ministry personnel were still attacking all and sundry, though the Aurors among them at least had begun to concentrate on the Death Eaters, save a few who probably had 'Moldy-wart leanings', as the Twins put it.

The strange room was lit more by spell blasts now than the torches set here and there along the wall, but the air still felt still and, well, dead even so. The DA were still holding position, the two groups, front line and sniper holding position as they should and not using any easily undone spells save to soften an opponent up. The Ministry, even the Aurors and the Order of the Useless did not follow that policy, and several of their members were down now taken out by Death Eaters they had thought down for the count. Strangely enough though many Order members, Ministry workers and even Aurors and Death Eaters were simply hurrying to cover to watch the main event.

In the center of the room Dumbledore and Voldemort dueled. Dozens of spells flew through the air between them with all the colors of a rainbow. Though unlike lesser wizards both seemed to favor nullifying enemy spells rather than merely shielding, nor did either bother often with voicing the spells they used, casting both silently and even wandlessly a few times. Bits and pieces of rubble were transfigured by one then banished by the other.

Area-of-effect spells never reached their intended target, batted aside to cause havoc elsewhere in the room or simply snuffed out, the most spectacular example of which being the beginnings of a spell Harry recognized as the start of Fiendfyre from a book Sirius had given him. Dumbledore had conjured a white and gold phoenix several times larger than Fawkes which ate Voldemort's spell before being vanished itself by what looked like some kind of water serpent.

Normally a boy his age should've been ecstatic about seeing two such powerful magic-users going at it just like all the gawkers around who had seemingly forgotten this was a battlefield. But all Harry felt was a rising fury. Madness had gripped him, and he pushed himself to his feet, almost absentmindedly casting a protection spell over Ron and his sister Ginny where they were hiding with the others behind conjured boulders. They had been continually sniping at the Death Eaters as they came in, but neither of them had the talent for defensive spells to stand on the front lines of the ambush. The two of them had come far, but had never quite caught up with the original study group that had segued into the Defensive Association in year two.

But even as he sent the shield spell that way he saw a Ron slump over, his shoulder and arm missing. " **No!"**

Flashback:

 _This year has been particularly crappy,_ Harry thought as he sat next to Hermione in the infirmary. First, he and Hermione, well Harry, the boys and all of the girls had argued about Professor Lockhart. All of the girls had somehow developed a blind belief in the teacher, not even phased by the disasters his class had become that first day. They had thankfully agreed to start up a Defense Association club, despite the fact that they couldn't get a teacher to sponsor it.

It had surprisingly allowed Harry to patch up his friendship with Ron, who despite still being rather lazy when it came to most classes had actually apologized to Hermione. Harry happened to know that was because his two brothers and Angelina Johnson had sat him down and basically informed him that if he didn't he would be pranked every day for the rest of his Hogwarts career, but still.

Yet that was just their own personal issues, which paled in comparison to the Heir of Slytherin and his doings, which added a whole new dimension to the pile of crap Harry had to deal with. While the seriousness of that had allowed him and Hermione to patch their friendship up after their arguments about Lockhart, the two of them had not been able to figure out what kind of monster could be loose in the school. They had however figured out that Harry could speak Parceltongue.

At first Hermione had looked at that askance, but after reading several books about it, and in particular speaking to Padma and Parvati, had come around. Just because England saw it as a sign of a dark wizard didn't mean the rest of the world. She had roundly defended him when it came out, but her defense of him didn't matter at all to most of the sheep posing as students here in Hogwarts.

Clutching at Hermione's hand, her frozen, petrified hand while he sat by her bed, Harry smiled as he remembered how Hermione had tried to defend him, and how the twins and the rest of the Quidditch team had come to his defense as well. It had made them all closer but there was one question he still had about that scene. "I wonder why you and the other girls were all blushing when that seventh year said how useful Parceltongue was in a man. What do vibrations have to do with anything, anyway?"

Just then the door to the infirmary burst open and Ron came in followed by the twins. "Harry!" Ron gasped. "Where've you been? The prefects were ordered to take all of the students to their dorm rooms. Didn't you hear the announcement?"

"I heard the professor say something on the intercom or whatever, yes. I'd decided to ignore it though." Harry replied coldly. While he and Ron had patched things up, Harry felt that Professor McGonagall had let him down badly, not just last year but this year as well.

None of the teachers had stood up for him when the rumors turned most of the population of the castle against him. None of the teachers had come forward to help the Defense Association with their efforts to actually have a defense against the dark arts education. And Professor McGonagall never protected Harry or the others from the Slytherins like Snape and Malfoy when they put them down or even attacked them occasionally in the halls.

"Never mind that Harry."Fred said from behind Ron. Harry could never understand why no one else could tell the two apart, it was just like Padma and Parvati. Fred had a few more freckles on one side of his face, and was slightly quicker to tell a joke than George. . "That doesn't matter, what matters is that Ginny is missing, and another 'heir' message was found."

"Too right my brother." said the other one frowning angrily, not even going into their normal back-and-forth routine. "It said 'her corpse will lie in the chamber forever'. All of the teachers are saying that Hogwarts is going to close and we're all going to be sent home, but not one of them is saying how they're going to try and find our Ginny!"

For a moment Harry thought of saying 'does this surprise you?' It certainly didn't surprise him. Most of the teachers here seemed to take a 'leave it alone until someone else does something attitude' towards everything outside their classrooms. Instead he exchanged a look with Ron before speaking up. "We might know where the Chamber of Secrets is, but not how to get in or what kind of monster it is."

"That could be enough Harry." said George, frowning anxiously. Of the twins, he was the one who was best able to handle more serious topics without some lead time. "If we go the to the teachers with that…"

"They'll ask us for what proof we have, and if we don't have enough they will turn us away, or if Snape is there he'll convince them it's some kind of publicity stunt by me. You know how they are." said Harry angrily. "And with Dumbledore away I bet there's some kind of lock on the Flu System."

"Susan said something about that a few hours ago." Ron said, and for once he wasn't ribbed about the pretty redhead by his twin brothers. While he didn't join the study group Ron was always around, and had taken up a tentative friendship with Susan over a shared passion for Quidditch. "Susan said she tried to contact her aunt after Creevey was attacked, but couldn't get through. Some kind of security thingy that needs the headmaster here to override it I think. And none of the owls are willing to leave the owlery for some reason."

"Stupid Fudge and the damned Ministry of Magic always screwing up." said Fred, scowling angrily. "What are we going to do Harry?"

All three of the redhead's turned to Harry, and his hand clenched on Hermione's fist then he froze. Looking down to the fist he whispered. "There something between her fingers. He pulled it out, then read it aloud "Pipes?"Then he flipped it over and began to read shaking his head at the very idea of Hermione cutting this out of a book. "'But the greatest of serpents is the basilisk…'"

After he finished reading the excerpt Fred asked skeptically. "Then why aren't any of the petrified students dead?"

"Think about it." George said snapping his fingers. "Norris, that abomination in furry clothing must've looked at it from the light of the puddle outside Moaning Myrtle's room. And Colin, he probably looked at it through the lens on his cameras and through Headless Nick."

"And Hermione?"Ron asked.

"Hermione's smart." Harry said softly, patting her hand and standing up. He moved over to Penelope Clearwater's head, lifting up a small mirror there. "The two of them must've been together in the library, and Hermione told Penelope about the basilisk. They must've been using the mirrors appear around corners after they left the library."

"And I think…" he said slowly. "I think I know how it's getting around too, Hermione found that answer too, pipes. There are pipes all through the building, and I bet it come out of them at any given point."

"Now we have to go to a teacher!" Ron said. "With this, and the fact we know that the chamber is somewhere in Moaning Myrtle's room they'll have to do something with that?"

Harry thought seriously. "I don't know, I'm not certain I trust any of them to really do anything but we'll see. Let's do this. Fred, you told us that you know of a secret way to get the Hogsmead for next year right? Use it and head into the town and use a flu there to call the Aurors. If they haven't already been told, they need to know. George, find professor Flitwick or Snape. Professor Flitwick is supposed to be a dueling champion right? And though I hate to say anything good about him, Snape is probably a better bet to fight something then Professor McGonagall."

Harry was making that basis on the fact that McGonagall didn't seem to have much fight for her students in her at all outside her classroom. But later when he got into transfiguration further, especially combat transfiguration he would realize that was rather naïve of him, going by appearance and personality rather than their known specialties.

"What about Lockhart?" Ron asked. "I know he hasn't been that effective, but his room is the nearest one."

About five minutes later Harry was cursing Ron roundly as Ron in turn held Lockhart at wand point while they went down the stairs into the Chamber of Secrets. "Why'd I ever listen to you I don't know!"

"Look at it this way." Ron said with a shrug. "He'll make a good meat shield anyway. Maybe if we feed him to the basilisk it'll choke on him. Or maybe the oil he uses in his hair is poisonous."

"Now boys there's no call for that." said Lockhart in that smarmy tone of his."I'm certain I'll be of some use if you would just give me back my wand Mr. Weasley."

"Fat chance." said both boys as they continued down the stairs. Once they reached bottom they entered a large rocky tunnel, the floor of which was lined with old snake-skins.

As they continued on their way the snake skins became bigger, until finally the size of one of them, almost as tall as Harry's head, seemed to sap what little courage Lockhart possessed. He suddenly turned, grabbing Ron by the arm and pulling him in. Ron was rather well-built for his age, but Lockhart was a grown man and easily overpowered the boy. He kicked Ron away, then flicked Ron's wand towards Harry. "None of that Mr. Pott-GAH!"

But Harry had already pulled out his own wand and an _Expilliarmus_ caught the man full in the chest just as he was intoning his own spell. But Harry had put so much strength into the _Expilliarmus_ sent Lockhart away with all the power of an explosion against the far wall. He must've hit something important, because suddenly there was a loud rumbling sound, and the entire ceiling began to cave in.

Harry quickly ducked aside rolling and diving forwards to get away from the rubble, while Ron did the same on the other side. After a moment the dust began to settle, and Ron called out."Harry are you okay!?"

"I'm all right." Harry said, brushing himself off and rather happy he had started to wear contacts rather than spectacles. Hermione had insisted on her parents taking him to an eye doctor who had proscribed them. The magical world apparently didn't have anything like them which was sad really but didn't matter right now. "All my bits are here anyway and so is my wand. How are you and the idiot?"

"We're all right."Ron shouted back. "But there's no way for me to get to you, and that moron broke my wand when he smacked into the wall! He's out of it. I'm smacking him upside the head and he's not even twitching."

"Then it's all on me." Harry said with a sigh. Head back upstairs and see if your brothers have had any better luck and guide them down here. I'll, I'll do what I can to find your sister."

After hearing Ron's reluctant reply Harry stood up, cracking his sore shoulders for a moment. "All right Harry time to do your 'hero thing' as Hermione calls it."

End Flashback

"Harry! Are you all right?" shouted Sirius, moving through the tumult of battle, leaving two Death eaters wrapped up in what looked like floss but which seemed to act like chicken-wire, slowly constricting in exceptionally painful but not immediately deadly places.

The older man's voice faltered and he looked past Harry at the body lying crumpled on the floor nearby, her bushy hair marking Hermione out as easily as ever. "Oh, no…"His eyes, which were not the most sane eyes anyone had ever seen turned wrathful, a look in them that Harry hadn't seen since the two of them had met the first time when Pettigrew had escaped. He turned, joining the battle with a yell. "You've killed your last child bastards!"

The sight of his godfather, who he'd not been allowed to live with and who had not gotten a trial, caused Harry's teeth to grit in anger once again. Not only had he been tricked, not only had Voldemort used their mental connection to send false images to him, but Harry had walked into a trap. Only luck had allowed them to escape from the initial ambush the Death Eaters had tried to set up his own.

But it wasn't just Voldemort and his Death Eaters who Harry was furious with. _Damn you Dumbledore, damn you and your order! If you had only shared what was going on with this! If you had only gotten off your backside and done something!_

Flashback:

"So let me get this straight." Harry said looking around at Ron, Padma, and the other members of the Defense Association who didn't agree with him on the urgency of heading to the ministry to save Sirius. "You want to trust Dumbledore. The person who has tried to systematically sabotage my magical education, who let me enter a tournament where he knew people routinely died and which pitted me was against older and better trained students, along with leading an order who apparently has done nothing in the past year to combat the Death Eaters? Or even prove that Voldemort is back?"

To one side Padma held up a hand and Harry glared at her. "Yes I know you say it's all supposition and that there were extenuating circumstances to some of it, but twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action. You can't argue that they haven't told us anything about what's going on, and I hate to say it Susan, but you're aunt hasn't exactly covered herself with glory either, being willing to tow the party line."

Susan actually flinched at that but nodded. "Saying her hands are tied and they have no budget is only an excuse Harry, I know, even if she believes us now. But really going to the Ministry? Why would V-Voldemort or whoever is impersonating him go to the trouble of keeping himself hidden since last year and then attack the Ministry now?"

"They're not attacking the Ministry they're doing some kind of ritual with Sirius there. Attacking isn't the same as sneaking in, and didn't you all say that in the last war a lot of people in the Ministry were on his side?"

Hermione nodded grimly. "And let's not forget all those people are still in power, right? Because that's the way things are done, if you're a pureblood and say you've been Imperioused, they don't even use Veritaserum on you, they take you 'at your word'."

More than one pureblood there glared angrily at her, but Hermione glared right back. Over the last few years thanks to Harry and her own parents she had lost much of her awe of authority figures, and of the wizarding world in general. Her parents had attempted to find out all they could about the laws of the wizarding world, only to have to rely on Harry to get a book about it, only to find most of the laws were decidedly biased against muggles in general, and only a little less so to muggle-born. The discrimination against them wasn't so much lawful as socially pervasive. Now Hermione saw all the shadows just as much as she saw the good things.

Hermione could no longer deny that the entire Wizard in world was bigoted from the top down. Even Ron and the pro-light families like them didn't really believe that non-magicals were their equals, they simply didn't hate them, which was a far cry from treating them as equal under the eyes of the law.

After a moment the other people looked away and Harry nodded grimly. "And there's the fact that as Supreme Mugwump he could've gotten Sirius a trial last year on my testimony. Confounded indeed! Instead what did he do? Nothing! He bundled me back to the damn Dursleys, made certain that Sirius was kept out of sight, and then you all know what happened with the Goblet of Fire, and with Umbridge this year."

That last name was enough, and finally all of their faces firmed. Lavender, Padma, and the other students that had come to the Defense Association this year all nodded, with Seamus speaking up for them all. "We're with you Harry."

End Flashback

All around him the Defense Association fired from somewhat long-range at the Death Eaters where they were now being forced to match more and more Aurors and Order members as they burst through the doorways on either side of the amphitheater. Harry had no attention for this however, he was concentrated on the two figures battling it out now in the center of the room, having swept through their disparate forces to clash there moments ago.

He even ignored Sirius and his cousin Bella the mad witch battling it out, throwing curses around like they were going out of style along with quips and phrases some of which were very strange to hear in a life-and-death battle. "Grandfather always liked you best!"

"Of course he did, I was the only one of our generation with a working brain after Andromeda ran off! You and Narcy so quickly kissed the ass of the Dark Lord, never even realizing that **it** was a half-blood!"

"You take that back blood-traitor!"

Harry ignored it all. Even Luna, the pretty little blonde whose friendship had been so important this past year, with everyone stressed out about Umbridge, OWL and his in Hermione's temporary estrangement about that old potions book with all the hints and it interesting bits of information and he had found.

Now she dueled with four Death Eaters and one Auror who had apparently tried to Hex her. Luna danced, she twirled, she moved constantly her spells a barrage of offensive, defensive and just weird spells, simply to cause chaos and confusion among her opponents. Which it did easily, Luna was winning that fight, slowly, but surely.

By this point Harry had reached the edge of the combat zone around Voldemort and Dumbledore, and he decided to emulate Luna's style as he joined in. With a wave of his wand he conjured up a horde of seeming-rabbits and sent them into the duel. Only when they came close to one of the wizards did open their mouth showing pointed teeth before attacking both combatants. Emma Granger was a Monty Python fan, and the terrible beast of Caerbannog had amused Harry when he'd seen it.

Spells from both combatants smashed the horde of rabbits to pieces, but Harry had already moved on. He transfigured the floor into spikes and hurling them straight at Voldemort, before following up with several offensive spells straight at the man. While the Voldemort dealt with them, Harry cast an illusion spell that Daphne had shared with the Defense Association, moving under the cover of it before he pulled out his invisibility cloak from the bag at his side, pulling it over his body.

By this point both Dumbledore and Voldemort were spending a few moments between their dual searching around for Harry. "Where are you Potter? You can't hide forever!"

"Now, now Tom." said Dumbledore, his voice cold and more powerful seeming than most had heard it. "Do you really think you have any time to spend looking for Harry right now?"

But Tom didn't respond, sending several spells at the old man who blocked them, dodged or smashed them aside with. But one of them hit the floor directly beneath him, not having been aimed directly at Dumbledore. Beneath Dumbledore the floor began to turn into quicksand.

The old man quickly stopped the process, but that stopped his own offensive for a moment. But before Voldemort could capitalize either by pulling back or attacking Harry was on him. But not with magic. Harry flung off a bit of his invisibility coat, slashing at Voldemort with the Sword of Gryffindor, hoping that the basilisk infused blade would end Riddle.

"GAAH!" Voldemort cried the blade cutting deeply into the upper arm of his non-wand hand. The skin there sizzled for a moment, but then Voldemort flung a cutting curse at where Harry was hiding. He jumped to one side, rolling as the assault continued. "Fool boy, my body is a homunculus!Magic itself keeps me alive, no mere blade or even poison will work on me, I am beyond death!"

Even so Voldemort paused a moment to hit his shoulder with some kind of healing spell, which stopped the sizzling, and the skin there began to knit back together. But that was all the madman had time for before Dumbledore was back on the attack, pressing him hard. For a moment Harry was forgotten.

Harry used this moment to hastily cover himself back with his invisibility cloak, making certain to cover himself completely. Then he began to circle around the two combatants, occasionally sending out spells at Voldemort until he was in position. At that moment several other Death Eaters tried to jump Dumbledore from behind, the Lestrange brothers perhaps, and one other.

The old man turned to handle them with ease, but it allowed Voldemort to turn back to searching for Potter. "Where are you Potter? Surely you can show the same amount of courage your paramour did and at least die gallantly?"

Harry ducked under an area of effect spell of some sort which zoomed through the air purple and green, and at the mention of Hermione, Harry saw red. He flung the edges of his invisibility cloak off his hands and began to fire spells both form his wand and non-wand hand. That and the strength and variety of the spells surprised the older man, though he handled them easily.

But Harry hadn't expected his spells to do anything to the older, more experienced wizard. Instead they had only been meant to take Voldemort's attention from Harry disappearing back under his cloak, and charging. A second after Voldemort dissipated the last spell, a massive cutting spell, Harry slammed his still invisible body into Voldemort's side, grabbing the man's wrist and using a move that had shown him once to break it before smacking the man's wand away.

"I don't need a wand to use magic Potter!" said Voldemort, slamming a hand into Harry's now visible forehead causing him to fling his head back, a small red blast of a _Stupefy_ spell smacked into him, but Harry ignored it.

Harry didn't let go of Riddle, instead he began pushing forward at the older man not letting him get his feet under him. The power of the berserker had filled Harry. All he wanted to do was kill Voldemort, the man who had cost him so much,

Cost him his father, the man he had only seen in the Mirror or Erised, who he had only heard snippets about even from his best friends. Cost him his mother, whose death had haunted his dreams for years, her screams of "Not Harry, not Harry" giving Harry strength in his younger years but also scarring him mentally forever.

Cost him any chance of being a normal boy, his time at the Dursleys, the stares and whispers behind his back from the sheep of the wizarding world. The basilisk venom neutralized but not removed from his bloodstream thanks to Fawkes's tears, the result of a plot by a portion of the man's past, proof that he had always been a bastard. Cedric's death, the torture Harry had gone through during Voldemort's resurrection last year.

Harry wanted to kill, no **had** to kill Voldemort, the man who had killed Hermione, his first love! .

Behind him his red reptilian eyes suddenly going wide, his hands gripping Harry's arms now, fingers of lightning going through the boy who simply gritted his teeth and kept on pushing. "Stop you fool boy! You'll kill us both!"

"So be it!" Harry yelled aloud and with that pushed the two of them through the Veil of Death.

For a moment the hall went silent, Death Eaters, Aurors, Defense Association and Order of the Phoenix fighters all falling silent while they stared at the place where their young hero and Voldemort had stood. Dumbledore too stared, his eyes wide and astonished. "This," he said aloud, his voice carrying despite being a whisper. "This I did not foresee. Why? Was this what the prophecy meant?"

Around him the Death Eaters went mad, screaming as they clutched at their arms. Harry's remaining friends simply stared in shock, all their training gone at seeing their leader, their friend, take out Voldemort at the cost of his own life. Around them the Aurors and even Dumbledore's own Order pressed the attack with renewed vigor. Soon, not a single Death Eater was conscious in the hall.

 **OOOOOOO**

At first Harry couldn't feel his body, couldn't feel anything. Couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything.. There was a brief and incredibly intense sensation of pain centered on his lightning bolt scar, then nothing, absolutely nothing. Wherever they were, there was no sensation at all. His body simply floated in an endless sea of nothing. He shook his head, and he was able to feel that sensation at latest, as he tried to get over the pain wondering what had caused it and more importantly. "Where, where am I? Did that work?" Even when Harry spoke, he didn't hear his own voice.

Yet even so he was better off than his opponent, for at least the first few seconds of their time in this odd dimension.

Voldemort's body came apart, expelling him violently. He had been dead once, and as he had told Harry, his body was but a construction, not a real body. He might've tried to fight his expulsion if not for the soul shattering pain that went through him at the same time from another source. It was the sensation of it one of his Horcrux being destroyed, something he knew having felt the same thing three years ago.

With that Voldemort realized two things. One, that he had finally discerned Dumbledore's true plan for Harry Potter, the reasoning behind his seemingly offering Potter up as a sacrificial lamb. And two, the tremendous mistake Voldemort himself had made all those years ago when he had attacked the Potters. _I wanted to create a seventh horcrux, my soul was ready for it, and when I died the process continued! The boy was a horcrux and that piece of my soul took the death meant for him! It must only be the fact that I still have others anchoring me to life that I still live!_

Yet even now Voldemort felt his life force draining away. _I have to get somewhere safe, and I know just the place!_ With a thought he launched his spectral form from the decaying body of his homunculus and into Harry Potter, trying to take the place of the original soul-splinter that had occupied him.

Yet somehow in this place Harry was aware of the intrusion and he fought back thrusting Riddle's soul away from his own. "No! Just die already!"

But he couldn't keep Tom completely out of his mind, untried as he was in the mental arts. Indeed, the lessons with Snape he'd been forced into despite his protests had the opposite effect, opening his mind further to outside forces.

Thus Tom was able to latch onto Harry's mind and from there his magical reserves, and began to use Harry's own magic to assault him. No spells really just pure magic fueled by rage and hate, and fear, fear of knowing that death was catching up to him here in this odd realm. "How dare you, how **dare** you Potter! I will have my vengeance, I will have my freedom from this place! I will beat even this method of death, and when I return the whole world will know me for its master!"

Voldemort's words weren't quite telepathic, yet they weren't reaching Harry via sound either, and he still he heard them somehow.

He gasped and held up his hands, covering himself with a hasty shield which glowed blue around Harry against the backdrop of the purple and green blasts of his opponent, lighting the emptiness. But at least those lights allowed Harry to see somewhat, and now he could see the horrifying opponent across from him.

The shade of Voldemort was a grotesque thing, huge and menacing made of mist and shadow standing out from the simple blank black of their surroundings in the backdrop of those lights, his eyes two red pinpricks in the mound that must be its head. There was so much hate, so much rage and fury in the creature that had been Voldemort that it lent him power here somehow, allowed him to use more of Harry's magical reserves than Harry himself could call upon, though not with anywhere near the control.

"Oh give it a rest!" Harry shouted back, sending that thought down the tenuous connection between them while forming a massive fist out of his magic and sending it at Voldemort. That was all they could do, mold their thoughts into attacks like that, fueled by emotions and a mutual hatred. "All you've ever been doing is running away you fucking coward! Death comes for us all, and I'm going to make certain this time its sticks for you for what you've done to me, for what you did to Hermione!"

"I will make you beg for a mercy before I'm through!" The shadow thing howled, while reaching down with hands of black shadow and claws which looked as if they weren't actually solid, but somehow Harry knew they would cut into him all the same.

Harry blocked them with a shield and flung another magical attack into the creature's face, while he tried to scrabble for anything physical he could use, but when he swung the sword of Gryffindor out from his side it cut straight through the thing of shadow without doing any damage he cursed, putting it back into his mokeskin pouch for now. "Only magic it is!"

 **OOOOOO**

Voldemort was being kept alive not only because of the connection he had forged in that brief moment with Harry's magical reserves and soul, but because he still had horcruxes out there in the real world. However, the veil of death, while not precisely what the wizards of the ministry thought it was still was indeed a bridge between life and death, or here and there to someone who knew how to walk them. But even so those bits of soul were being drained rapidly

Left behind in Malfoy manor a massive snake began to writhe in agony, while a golden cup began to crumble, hidden in a massive vault underneath the goblin bank. A ring secreted under numerous deadly enchantments began to crack, some of the magic imbued in it fading, though not as quickly as the goblet or snake, which were much closer to the epicenter of the effect. Somewhere between them, a locket began to fade in a thief's pocket, and in the Room of Requirement, a diadem set onto a porcelain statue began to slowly fade.

No one noticed any of this, not even the thief who had possession of the locket.

 **OOOOOOO**

"Oh come on Tom maybe if you die, you'll be reincarnated. There must be some kind of bug or other you could be. A dung beetle maybe, you'd fit right in."

"A, a dung-beetle? How dare you, j-just give up Potter! You can never defeat me!"

"Oh, I'm sorry I should've known you'd prefer to be a mosquito. You're enough of a bloodsucking parasite to qualify already."

"RAAAHHHH!Your foolish bravado will not save you Potter! You've been set up all your life for this, to die! Why don't you do so if you're so eager to embrace it!"

"After you, age before beauty and all that. Besides, I'm certain there are lots of people on the other side eager to make your acquaintance."

How long their battle took neither of them knew. Nor how long since Harry had begun to channel his inner Marauder and fling quips at his foe in an effort to throw him off. They did seem to be throwing Voldemort off slightly, or perhaps Harry's mind had simply cracked, he didn't know or care really. He kept on flinging out insults like they were party favors, and anyone who listened to him would never have realized he was in a life or death struggle for his very soul.

Their battle was more a meeting of elemental forces than a meeting of one wizard against another. Spells had no place here, only pure will and a drive to win kept both combatants going. Each of them had certain advantages in the battle.

Tom was mobile, able to move around the dimension with far more ease than Harry, who simply floated in one place. But Voldemort was constrained because he couldn't move very far away from Harry due to his connection to the young man's magical reserves. And while he could wield that power, cutting and blasting at Harry, Harry could do the same, and their knowledge of spells was useless here. It was all about will, and in that area surprisingly Voldemort had no advantage.

Harry had one other advantage, his father's cloak. Though Harry didn't know it, that cloak was far more than a simple invisibility cloak like those used by the Order of the Phoenix when they had to watch over him during this past summer. It was one of three magical creations of the brothers Peverell in their deal with an ancient personification of Death. They had each wished to in some way become immune to death, a thing they surprisingly had in common with Voldemort. The cloak, which hid the wearer from Death even when not fully covering him unlike from more physical threats, was unarguably the most effective of the three.

It allowed Harry to exist here, though exist was the operative term, not live or thrive. And while it could no longer hide him from his opponent's senses, it hid his soul from the realm's normal response to intruders. The realm they were in should have quickly drained Harry but could not touch him yet it was continually draining Voldemort. Eventually, Tom began to feel that and he screamed in rage. Abandoning the game of quips and jokes, he attacked more and more desperately trying to grab more power from Harry's magical reserves, but Harry fought him off just as fiercely, sensing the desperation that told him his opponent was weakening.

With hands glowing with magical power Harry gripped his opponent's clawed hands, holding them in place. Then he sent a magical surge out of his eyes into Tom's face in a way he never could have in their original world.

Voldemort screamed, wrenching one of his hands free and trying to claw at Harry's face, causing a long spike of agony to appear, going from one ear to his chin. "Damn you boy, you'll not beat me!"

Harry knew he'd just received a new scar, even if he couldn't see it. Yet even so Harry ignored the pain, lashing out with his own fist, sending a bright blast of yellow and orange magic into the creature's chest. "Not a chance Smoky! That's my power you're using you shite, this is my body you're trying to invade, you shite, and my magic you're trying to take, but you'll have neither… you shite!"

He watched, noticing that the creature that Voldemort had become began to reform from the blast, only much more slowly than it had even a few minutes ago. _He's weakening!_ He mentally crowed in confirmation.

With that thought egging him on, Harry dug deep into his magical powers, lashing out again and again going on the full offensive, no longer thinking of his own defense. He took several dozen slashes, one of which caught him high up in the chest slicing him across a pectoral, almost finishing his shirt's destruction. But Voldemort was now visibly reeling back trying to get some distance between them, but anchored as he was to Harry's soul and magical reserves he couldn't retreat.

 **OOOOOOO**

The goblet had collapsed, it's magic and soul fragment drained screaming into the ether. The locket was next, falling apart just as Mundungus Fletcher was about to draw it out for a prospective buyer.

He coughed uncomfortably. "I seem ta've left it in me other robes guv, why don't I just go look fer it?" Before anyone could do anything, he had scurried out of the exceedingly seedy tavern where he'd been me meeting his contact.

Once safe several streets away Fletcher shook his head. "Shoddy stuff, never would've thought it of the Blacks. Or was that some kind of protection thing? Wouldn't put it past the dark bastards."

Only Narcissa and Draco were at home unfortunately to here Nagini's pained cries. Draco tried to help his new master's familiar, but was nearly crushed by her death in her death rattles, only his mother's quick thinking saving him. The two of them stood in the doorway to the 'throne room' watching in terror as the Dark Lord's familiar convulsed and died.

The ring was next after the locket. It crumbled, fading to dust and then to nothing, leaving the Ruby gem that had marked it behind pristine and untouched for now.

That left only the diadem in Hogwarts keeping Voldemort alive. The soul fragment within it screamed, having just enough sentience to realize what was happening to it, to know that somewhere it's other self was facing death. Yet even so, it couldn't do anything. It was simply an object, stuck on a stone carving with no one nearby for it to force its will upon. All it could do was scream as its very being was pulled slowly but surely out of it.

 **OOOOOOO**

Though neither combatant noticed it, the very air around them had become magically infused. But the dimension the two combatants had found themselves in could not handle that, a sign of a living being inside it, for long. It began to rebel and quake, causing Harry's body to actually feel sensations for the first time.

Yet this didn't distract from Harry's concentration. Tom was becoming weaker and weaker, his grip on Harry's soul and magical reserves, if the two of them were indeed separate Harry didn't know, becoming fainter.

Perhaps he should have taken notice however, because the dimension, like a human body discovering a foreign agent, suddenly worked to expel the intruder. The place between worlds spat Harry and the leech that he was fighting out completely at random, uncaring as to their destination so long as they were gone.

 **OOOOOOO**

Thorin Oakenshield grunted under his burden, several hundred pounds of pig iron. Once mixed with the other metals he had back at his forge, they would become steel, good dwarven steel, which he would then sell to make the money that his family and clan members needed so much.

It wasn't the weight of the burden that bothered him. He was a dwarf, and dwarfs made light of such burdens, and even for the doughty folk of Mahal, Thorin was reckoned strong. No, it was what the burden represented that made him grunt in all too familiar anger and grief.

He had been a fairly young dwarf when they had been forced to flee Erebor, when he had been forced to take up the 'kingship' when his father went off on his mad quest to the mines of Khazad Dum after the last War of the Dwarves and Orcs, when every other orcish stronghold was thrown all that time, Thorin had barely been able to keep the dams and the children of his immediate family safe through the bare skin of his teeth. Dozens of families had retreated to their distant cousins in the Iron Hills but others had simply scattered, no longer able to rely on the mountain and the stone of their halls for defense.

It was a sad existence, for none more so than the dams and the children. It was a dwarf's place to protect his clan's women, his wife, his mother, his sister and all too often Thorin had come close to failing that sacred charge. With only one out of every three dwarves being female, and not all of them marrying, it wasn't a simple social more, but one based on survival of the species. Dwarves married for life with the female always doing the choosing, if she met her One. If not, she would never marry. And despite their long lives, a married couple would usually only have four children at best. Children and women were thus infinitely precious to dwarves, even more than jewels or gold or works of hand and eye.

More than once Dis, his sister and others dams of the clan were in danger, and it had been all he and the other warriors could do to protect them from goblins and other threats. Now the women and children were hidden away in the Iron Hills, a sure sign to others that Thorin had admitted his strength wasn't enough to protect them. That galled him like fire, especially since it was true.

 _Yet I do what I can, and possibly soon my dream, our dream will be made into a reality. There's been no stirrings from the dragon for several decades now, the signs and the portents are telling it right. The time will soon come for us to reclaim what is ours!_

With a grim smile on his face Thorin continued his trek down the trail from the small iron mine that he worked alone towards the nearby town where he had been working in the past decade as a smith. _Another week or so, then the response to my missive to Dain should arrive. Regardless of their response, I will need to meet Balin and the others two months from now._

He snorted suddenly, shaking his head. _I wonder if my two nephews will show up, an idea I am definitely of two minds about. I know they are good warriors, almost as good as myself or Dwalin, but they are so young… Still I cannot gainsay them in this, it is their right to return with us to Erebor._

His thoughts were interrupted by a massive booming crash nearby, a great "KRAKOOOM!"

Whirling, Thorin quickly divested himself of his burden, reaching to his belt and pulling out a long, wicked looking sword. It was one of his own make, heavy, sharp and thick bladed and like any sensible dwarf Thorin never left home without it.

Squinting hard through the nighttime forest Thorin could see what looked like a Human, a young one for that breed possibly, though it was very hard to see him, his form was indistinct, some kind of cloak or something making him blend in with the background. He stood in an opening in the forest that hadn't been there moments before. There were several trees shattered and blasted, tossed aside like a catapult stone had smashed into them. But there was also something else,another presence there.

Suddenly the youth's hands lit up with blue and purple fire, and Thorin could clearly see what he was fighting. No coward, Thorin still gulped staring at the dark creature the boy was was a thing of shadow and smoke, like some of the stories about Durin's Bane, only with none of the fire of that creature but also none of its solidness the keeper of Moria was said to possess. A single glance told Thorin his blade would mean nothing to it.

Indeed it looked feeble, clinging to the boy as if trying to possess him, something Thorin had heard of from old legends about what could happen to Humans touched by evil things. Though most of those had the possession attempt coming from actual physical items and the entire battle be an internal one rather than an image like this. Thorin could only watch as the battle raged...

 **OOOOOOO**

Harry grunted as his back hit something solid, sensation once more flooding into his awareness. _Back in the material plane,_ he thought, almost giddy with it and he began to laugh riotously as he noticed he was in a forest somewhere. But his enemy was still trying to cling to Harry, trying to grasp his mind. "Looks like we're back among the land of the living Tommy boy! Or at least, I am. You on the other hand…."

Harry reached forward, grasping the body of the leech, which was an accurate label of what Voldemort had become, with his willpower and he finally succeeded in ripping it entirely away from his soul. He screamed the pain of it agonizing worse than any Cruciatus curse yet Harry continued, breaking the tendrils of darkness away from him with pure willpower.

"No! You cannot, I will not… Don't do this Potter, please we could join together help one another!" At the last, Voldemort's will broke, faced with the certainty of the end he had spent practically his entire life trying to flee from.

"How about no Tom? How about you get the **bloody fuck** out of my mind and **die**!" With that Harry pulled his hands to either side, ripping Voldemort's corporeal form apart one last time. With a last despairing wail the darkest wizard in the last hundred years of Harry's world died, completely and utterly gone for good.

Harry stumbled against the tree, staring wildly around, making certain that not even the last little bit of Voldemort was left alive. He turned, wide-eyed as a being that was short, stout and with heavy beard and bearing a naked blade came towards him.

Looking at the dwarf's eyes however it was obvious he wasn't going to attack and Harry waved a hand at him. "Some people." he said airily. "They just don't know when no means no, you know?" And with that Harry fell forward, exhaustion finally claiming him.

Thorin raised a bushy eyebrow and stared at the boy, respect etched on his features. Whatever that creature had been it had been strong, and this boy had evidently been fighting it for a very long time. Once Thorin removed the large cloak partially concealing the boy Thorin could see he had several wounds covering his body. Some of them were scabbed over and others had already formed hideous scars on his body. A few of them were newly made, those on his arms and hands in particular.

"Such a one does not deserve to die out here from exhaustion and the elements rather than battle." He said aloud, reaching into his pouch for some wraps to put over the boys arms and hands to hopefully keep infection at bay. Once he had done enough of what he could to aid the boy's injuries, he lifted the lad up, grunting in astonishment at how light he was. The youngling almost felt as light as elves were supposed to be and Thorin quickly put him down, checking his ears just in case. If the boy was an elf Thorin was going to leave him here, respect for the battle he had just seen or no.

Thankfully the boy's ears were normal Human ones, and Thorin hefted him onto his shoulder again before heading back to his pack. The boy's weight was literally nothing in comparison to his normal burden, so it wouldn't add much.

For two days Thorin carried the boy, tending to him as needed each time Thorin made camp. They were nearly at the edge of the small, nameless town along the Great East Road that Thorin had begun to work in since Dis and the other dams had been sent to the Iron Hills. The thought still stuck in his craw even now, just as it had each time it came to mind but Thorin had a dream, no a driving all consuming passion, to reclaim what was once theirs, to see them all safe in their own halls once again. _And if I have to deal with the knowledge that my sister and the other dams and children are being protected by Dain and his clan to free myself to act, then so be it._

On the morning of the third day the Human boy awoke while Thorin was moving about his camp. He stared down at his bandaged hands, pulling them off to stare at the wounds there, before intoning something in an odd language, running one finger lightly over the gashes. As Thorin watched askance the wounds slowly healed.

The Human youth then pulled at his hair, seeming astonished at how long it was, before opening the ragged remains of his shirt to stare at the wounds on his chest. The one across the chest in particular looked fearsome, and the scar it had left was impressive even to Thorin.

Then the boy, no the young man Thorin decided, looked around him, his gaze coming to rest at Thorin. "Hail and well met young warrior." Thorin said in Common, nodding his head at him from across the fire, sitting down and staring curiously at the human youth.

He wasn't an expert, but he estimated the young man was only somewhere in his second decade. He wasn't certain, Humans aged so much faster than his own people, but he knew for certain he'd yet to shave, which made him hideously young to Thorin's eyes. Yet the scars on his body and the magic he wielded told Thorin his age might be deceiving. They spoke of a harsh life that only a dwarf could appreciate.

"I witnessed the end of your duel with that shadow creature. What was it? It looked like something from the time of Morgoth, or the Lesser evil of Sauron. And where did you learn your own magics? I know there are wizards abroad, I've even met none I've heard of are as young as you seem to be."

Harry looked at him blankly for a moment then from somewhere inside dredged up a spell that Hermione had found during their fourth year at Hogwarts. She had sought a method to learn languages so as to talk to some of the French students and even the Bulgarians in their native tongue. She found it rude to always have to rely on them knowing English, and had found one in a book that Luna had recommended to her.

For a moment Harry looked around him, wondering blearily where his wand went, thankful that his father's cloak was folded neatly beside him. Then he looked back at the dwarf across the fire. It had to be a dwarf, he'd seen pictures of them in history books, though they had retreated from the 'lands of men' whatever that meant during the rise of the Roman Empire. "I'm sorry, I don't understand you, but if you give me a moment I think I can do something about that."

Thorin eyebrows rose in surprise, he wasn't surprised the boy didn't speak Common, but even so his language sounded odd. He knew many different languages of men, and even a smattering of Elf, since as a prince such diplomatic tools were necessary, if only to observe the niceties. But the boy's language, while seeming to have a bit of the structure of a few of those tongues, was wholly unlike them as well.

Giving up on his wand Harry frowned for a moment, then waved his fingers in the air in a complicated figure 8 before flicking it and hoping for the best as he intoned " _Rosetta Calx_ ". There was a brief shimmering of the spell in the air, and the dwarf's hands swiftly went to his waist where Harry now noticed a very businesslike looking sword hung.

"Calmly, please." Harry said and the dwarf stopped in surprise. "Can you understand me now, I used a language spell, it basically makes me understand your words. It's a short term thing, but every time you speak your language, I'll gain more knowledge of it for myself, -er at least I think so.I wish I had listened more to the explanation for it, more fool me. Anyway, I'm Harry Potter, you have any idea where we are?"

"Magic should always be treated warily." Thorin said slowly, excusing his own actions, though inwardly noting the lad's response confirmed him as being somewhat young, the human equivalent of his nephew Kili perhaps. "I am Thorin, and yes I know where I am, I am outside the land known as the Breelands. It is a land of Men and Hobbits, but Men pay well for good dwarven steel, though the hobbits need none except for tools and trinkets. Why, did your battle with that creature somehow transport you magically?"

Thorin was wary of giving any real information to the boy, but that much was safe enough. The Breelands were a crossroads of sorts for many peoples thanks to the main town's auspicious location, a good place to gather those dwarves who remained true to the dream of reclaiming Erebor. Though it was that very reason that he and his companions had decided to meet elsewhere, someplace no one would look, a location chosen by Gandalf. _I wonder how Tharkun is doing in finding a thief anyway?_

Harry didn't know where the Breelands were, though he had never really studied geography, and didn't pick up on the fact that Thorin was keeping something back. Even if he had, he would've simply seen it as good sense, after all they were strangers. So he answered honestly,"You could say that yes. I'm uncertain-but I don't think-well, you said 'Men' correct? That means there are other humans here? I haven't suddenly found myself in the Dwarven lands?"

"Dwarven lands? You said that with a very odd sort of emphasis. Are you talking of a country, a hidden kingdom perhaps?" Thorin asked interestedly, wondering if this boy had dealing with his people before.

"Shouldn't I be the one answering asking questions here, I am the lost traveler in this picture."Harry said with a small pout.

He watched as Thorin rolled his eyes and said something under his breath about 'youngsters' but answered readily enough. "Where I come from, dwarves had long since retreated from, well, the normal lands basically. The histories are uncertain of whether or not that meant they disappeared deep into some mountain somewhere, or somehow magically created their own land and then retreated into it before cutting off all access."

"No dwarves I know would have magic enough to do that." Thorin said thinking aloud. "Retreat under the ground perhaps."

Harry shrugged. "I know there are gnomes in another country, and that dwarven steel is sometimes still traded between us and the goblins but…"

He stopped as Thorin gripped his steel blade and pulled it out rapidly. "You are an ally of goblins!?"

"Ally, no!We're not allies with them, though we have gone to war with them occasionally in the past. We finally decided on a truce, they get to fondle all the coins they wish as bankers for the wizards of my world they don't rebel and we don't kill them all."

That was about all Harry had retained from nearly five years of magical history lessons. He tended to tune out Daphne and Hermione's arguments on the subject unless it touched on dark wizards, which he had a particular interest in of course.

"What is a bank?" Thorin said scowling. "And who in their right minds would trust goblins with their money?"

"A place to store your money and have someone guard it is the easiest way to describe a bank, and wizards are very rarely in the right minds." Harry said with a laugh. "I know I'm not at the moment. I should be well…" he shuddered and tears began to form in his eyes before he rapidly shook them away. "Anyway, I think I think it's my turn to ask you some questions. Where is England from here, or maybe you know it Britannia? Even France would do in a pinch, er, that would be the land of the Gauls I think…"

Seeing the dwarf hesitate Harry smiled grimly and reached into his mokeskin pouch, pulling out the sword of Gryffindor. "I'm not an expert with this, but trust me with this blade I don't have to be. I'm not going to attack you, but nor am I a going to simply answer all your questions without getting any information in return."

Thorin stared into his eyes, then grunted and sat down sheathing his blade again. "Fair enough stranger, but the world you describe is very odd to me. Orcs and goblins are not trusted at all here. They are a menace, one of the deadliest you will ever meet. They have been ever since the Great Enemy created them in the Time of Darkness. They are a blight upon the world. Numerous times my people, the Humans and the cursed Elves have thought them wiped out in this or that corner of the world, only for them to grow back their numbers, expanding like that of a colony of ants."

His lips formed into a snarl under his beard, and he gripped his sword. "My own grandfather died from orcs, and I fought in the last battles of the last war against them in this part of the world. Speak not to me of orcs or goblins."

"Great Enemy? Perhaps you could expand on that point? Or answer some of the questions I asked about."

Thorin shook his head interrupting the youthful human. "I know not where England is, nor have I heard of any of the other nations or peoples you name. I think my young acquaintance, you are very, **very** far from home.""

"Yeah, I kind of feared that. Why can't my life be simple, just once, you know, for varieties sake if nothing else?" Harry said shaking his head with a sigh. "But you seem to know about magic. Do you know some magic users, or do you practice it yourself?"

Again Thorin hesitated, but saw no reason not to answer. "My own people do not use magic as you seem to, but there is an order of wizards in this world, yes. My father and grandfather were friends with one such, and I met him a time or two. Gandalf the Grey, a powerful Wizard though he certainly never used his magics as you did in that battle, but he is also good with the blade for a human. Even gave me a few tips when I was younger."

"Hah, certainly doesn't sound like my kind of wizard I know." Harry said laughing. "Most wizards aren't athletic, as a general rule. Unless they play Quidditch in some ways, but that's a small exception to the rule."

"Some kind of sport or skill I take it?" Thorin asked poking at the fire.

Harry only then noticed that there was a rabbit cooking there and he stood up. "If that rabbit is all you have, let me look around for a bit. These trees look like oaks and birch, so I'm assuming that at least the wildlife and plants are the same. If that's the case, there should be some herbs around here."

"I know not how to cook." said Thorin protesting, but Harry had already left the circle of firelight. Thorin frowned looking after him wondering if the boy would bolt now. But he was back shortly with several small leaves.

"Basil leaves." he said in explanation. Reaching for the fire he pulled the rabbits out, whereupon he began to chop the meat of it up, wrapping each piece in basil and sticking them on a piece of green wood before placing them back beside the fire. Once that was done he leaned back, sitting now slightly closer to Thorin rather than across the fire from him. There was still more than enough distance between the two however so that either could reach for his blade if the other made to attack. "While that's cooking, why don't you tell me more about the history of this world just in a general way."

Thorin shrugging and did so. He was no lore master, but he knew the history of the world well enough. The Great Betrayal, the Sundering, the Long Night and more recent history, the makings of the rings and the Last Great War. He delved deeper into his own people's history of course then the rest of the world, telling of the nations that had been hewn out of stone and rock and then the rise of his own people, the kingdom of Erebor, the mightiest realm of dwarves in this age of the world. There he clammed up, going silent and dark staring out into the night his eyes grim and his face a mask of ancient grief and fury.

Through it all Harry listened, only asking questions a time or two as Thorin got deeper and deeper into telling the tale of wars, heroes and calamity. Tragedy, like betrayal, was woven through the tale from beginning to end, and Harry could tell that this was a far darker world than his own and not just technologically behind as he had previously thought. _What have I gotten myself into?_ He wondered, half in trepidation, and half in growing curiosity. Perhaps this was precisely what he needed after the disastrous battle in the ministry, an entirely new start, where none of his enemies, friends or Dumb-as-a-door could ever find him.

But what interested him most was the current tale. The saga of Thorin's people seemed unfinished if the way the dwarf had closed off and gone so still and sorrowful was any indication. Harry pulled the rabbit skewers out with his fingers, hissing a little at the heat and then peeled away the outer wrapping of basil leaves to take a bite of the rabbit. "Tastes just like chicken." He mumbled shaking his head at a joke he'd absorbed from Seamus and a few other muggle born.

Passing over half of the stickers to Thorin he said. "Well that was quite a tale, and one I'll need to think about further before asking more questions. For now, the food's done. ."

The two of them fell to eating, with Thorin grunting approval of the taste of the rabbit, while Harry merely ate ravenously. The two of them remained silent as they ate, with Thorin watching this new curiosity that had fallen into his lap before asking Harry about the odd creature he had been fighting. The boy replied, explaining it as a piece of a dark wizards soul, a thought that made the dwarf shudder at the very idea, before answering the boy's question in turn.

The question and answer session lasted well into the night, until as Thorin was speaking about the wars of the Witch King Harry at last fell asleep by the fire. Thorin stared at him, his thoughts a whirl with the tale the boy had told. He knew there was more to be said, but even what he had already learned was enough to keep him thinking for weeks. Yet his thoughts kept coming back to two things: one, the odd cloak the boy wore, calling it an invisibility cloak. And two, the number of strange and wondrous spells the boy had spoken of.

 _If even half of them are true, perhaps, perhaps Mahal has smiled on our quest. No, no I cannot assume that just yet. I must learn more about Harry's character before that, as well as his abilities before even considering telling him about my people's exile._ With that thought, Thorin turned in as well. And if he woke up at any point in the night to the sounds of sobs nearby he made no sign of it.

The next day Harry was up before Thorin. He looked at the dwarf, who was currently and nearly hidden in a bed of leaves, his sword across his chest. He was almost invisible unless you knew where to look. Harry of course had his invisibility cloak, from which only his head was visible currently. With a sigh he sat up, rubbing at the bridge of his nose for a moment.

It was then he realized with a start that his eyes didn't hurt. Every time he had fallen asleep with his contacts in before they would hurt like blazes the next day. _But I can see perfectly, what the heck? Did they somehow merge with my eyes in that weird between-steps plane? Could explain my lack of wand too…_ With that thought Harry conjured up a small mirror, staring at his reflection. What looked back at him was a face older than the one he remembered. Gone was any hint of baby fat, leaving behind thin, almost gaunt but somehow stern cheekbones, smattered with stubble. One side of his face was marred by a long thin scar that went from his right ear to his chin. His green eyes were also deep set, and his wild hair fell to his shoulders. There were other scars littering his body now too, adding to the collection he had already, most of which he'd noticed the other day.

 _Holy hell, I'm… what, five, six years older than I was? Was I in there for that amount of time, or did the fight somehow age me, or did time just move differently there? Ugh, too many damn questions. I wish Hermione…_

Harry had to pause as a fresh round of grief nearly overwhelmed him, but he gritted his teeth and controlled it, turning back to more immediate things, concentrating on transfiguring his ragged shirt back into a clean one for the moment. _Anyway, nothing I can do about it now. But wow, that bastard did a number on me. Hell, it looks like a need to shave now. Weird._

A snort from nearby broke Harry out of his introspection, and he turned to watch Thorin wake up.

He nodded at the dwarf, who nodded then went off to the little dwarf's room Harry supposed, before coming back, looking at harry curiously. "Where will you go now Harry Potter?"

"Just Harry please." Harry said shaking his head and looking at the sword of Gryffindor which had been lying next to him, conjuring up a sheathe for it as well as a belt. "And if it's all the same to you, I'd like to follow you to a town at least. Then I won't trouble you further."

Thorin only tore his eyes away from the now sheathed blade at Harry's side with difficulty, having seen the sword in the light of day for the first time. It was exquisite work, and he frowned suddenly looking at it. Something about its makeup called to him. "That blade…" he said slowly, not answering Harry's question. "That blade is special in some way is it not?"

"In many ways yes." Harry said with a laugh. "And before you ask, no I don't have any idea who made it. It was ancient, called the sword of Gryffindor in my world. It's supposed to be a goblin blade, but I have my doubts about that, since the only other works of goblins I've seen have been in stone, their vaults and ward arrays were excellent. But it does take on the properties of anything it is soaked in, so there could be some truth to that too. Since I used it to kill a basilisk, one of the most poisonous creatures alive, it's become rather deadly. So please, don't touch the blade."

Thorin pulled hand back from doing just that scowling a little. "Interesting. As to your question, you can come with me so long as you do the chores around the camp as we go."

"I think I've already proven I'm a better cook than you." Harry said with a laugh then nodded. "That's fine. I'll even put some runic arrays down to protect us at night. Nothing permanent, I've not gotten to that point in my studies yet but I can certainly put down a mild Notice Me Not field, or an Aversion field to keep animals at bay."

"Interesting." Thorin said, though his tone said 'I'll believe it when I see it.'

Harry nodded at the challenge and laughed. "Just wait until we stop for the night, then you'll see." He said as they began the day's journey.

 **OOOOOOO**

That evening they stopped early, Thorin not wishing to push the manling too far while he was still recovering. While Thorin went hunting for some food to bolster what little he'd brought along, small biscuits and dried meat. More than enough for a single dwarf to subsist on but not for both of them, Harry stayed around the area that Thorin had chosen for their camp.

He busied himself by taking out large flat stones and inscribing two or three runes on each of them before setting them out in a pattern around the camp. As he came back laden with a large raccoon Thorin looked at the stones with interest, and Harry explained that he was putting down an aversion field to keep animals and anyone else from noticing the camp.

At that explanation, Thorin looked at the rocks far more closely, using all his self-control not to gape. His people made use of runes to imbue magic into items, calling upon Mahal to power them, but the process was slow, often times ponderous. The effects they could achieve varied, from weapons which never needed honing, or armor that was far lighter than even dwarven mail could be, to the famous lights of Khazad Dum or the self-propelled carts, which would run continuously between the lowest mine and the forges above.

Defense too was something the dwarves used runes for, creating magical doors, hiding them from any attempt to find them or enhancing their strength magically. No army could break such doors until the magic in them was destroyed, as had, alas, been the case with Erebor's own doors. Dragonfire destroyed magical bonds like that as fast as it did the wood of the door itself.

Yet the use of runes was also something of a vanishing art amongst them, much of the knowledge lost after the fall of Khazad Dum or even before in the Age of Wrath. At its height Erebor had two dozen rune-carvers, those men, and even one dam, who had learned how to enhance the runic letters with magic, the mightiest of their kind in all the dwarven kingdoms. Thorin's grandfather had sent more than half the remaining warriors of the mountain to the Iron Hills to guard the six surviving rune carvers barely weeks after Erebor fell, so precious were they. They remained there now, guarded by Dain and his people.

But to see runes used in this manner, so **quickly** and with such an effect, that was beyond startling to Thorin. _For one so young for his people to know such a skill, aye and be so open about it, what kind of society did Harry Potter come from where they teach rune-craft so young, without teaching the need to guard the knowledge? This Human is a mystery… but could he also represent an opportunity?_

But using them in this manner, so quickly and so haphazardly but yet with such an outcome was astonishing. "Do you really think these little stones will be imbued with enough power to do what you say you wish them to?"

"Oh yes, it's not so much in the stones themselves as in the runic array, each of them feeding upon one another." _And magics strong here_ , he thought to himself shaking his head internally. It felt like he was at Hogwarts, the entire world seemed to be heavily imbued with magic. It was fascinating. Once Thorin crossed the boundary, Harry traced his finger over the much larger stone he had set up as the center of the ward. "Activate." With that there was a bright shimmer in the air for a moment, which dissipated as quickly as it appeared.

Thorin's eyes widened at this show of power, noting yet again that Harry was willing to throw more magic around than Gandalf ever had, or indeed any of the Istar was supposed to. He shook off his awe quickly, hiding his inner thoughts with the ease of long practice. "That was only half your portion of this deal Harry Potter." He held out the raccoon to Harry.

"I never agreed to be the one preparing the meat, but it's all one."The two of them both set to work on the animal, skinning it quickly and then cutting out the meat from the bones, which they set aside. With Harry's wards up, no scavenger would be able to come close to them.

With that done Harry began to sprinkle them with pieces of fennel leaves that he had found on their journey through the day, before once more wrapping them to the meat in basil leaves. "We'll need to find some kind of vegetable or fruit to go with this you know."

"Bah, said Thorin scoffing. "Vegetables and fruits weaken the body, all you need is meat. Mind you, I'd prefer to have more spices to add to it."

Harry laughed. "I see that dietary needs aren't exactly known here." Frankly, he was starving at this point so anything was good to him. "I remember this one argument I had to stop, Hermione…" Harry paused, his face crumpling up for a moment while he fell silent. Thorin looked at him, but did not speak, leaving the Human youth to his grief.

For a few moments the two sat in somewhat companionable silence waiting for their food to finish cooking, each to his own thoughts. Then Thorin reached into a small pouch and pulled out a flask, taking a long pull before sighing in satisfaction. "What's that?" Harry asked, glad for something external to concentrate on.

"This?" Thorin said holding it up then laughed. "This is good dwarf mead my young human. Strong enough it would knock you right out, and I've already carried you enough."

Harry frowned, then conjured up a cup of his own and filled it with water via an _Aquamenti_ spell. "Fine, be that way."

Thorin nearly coughed on the mead in his flask at the sight of yet another amazing spell, then shook his head and looked off into the woods. "A bit of free advice Harry. You should be wary of throwing magic around like that, I've never heard of a wizard being so open with his talent, nor heard of magic used in that manner. Creating something out of nothing?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Still works though. I could even create food, bread and other things but you wouldn't get anything out of it. Water though is water, the spell pulls it from the environment and pulls it into wherever you need it. As to being wary, meh. I'm of no mind right now to care about whatever anyone think of my magic. I cared about what other people thought for far too damn long."

Several hours later Thorin was astonished anew when Harry conjured up a full bed for himself. It sat there incongruous in this camp and the wilds around them, while Thorin stared at it agog. Harry laughed and waved his fingers. "You want one?"

Thorin scoffed, though his lips twitched slightly. Being around Harry Potter reminded him all too easily of his two rambunctious nephews. "Dwarfs are hardy folk, we laugh at irritations such as sleeping out in the cold."

"In other words you do but you're too prideful to ask right?"

Thorin scoffed again looking away but he couldn't quite keep the longing edge out of his voice as he looked at the bed. "Believe what you want." Then he gasped as a bed appeared beside him though he scowled angrily as he noticed the size of it.

Harry smiled at him beatifically. "I had to make it to size of course." He said in a butter would not melt in his mouth tone.

Thorin grumbled, but couldn't keep his smile from widening slightly. The boy was obviously somewhat crazy, alone and with no way of getting home and he still made jokes? Still, he was good company, and the conjured beds gave Thorin some more peace of mind when it came to the runic arrays around them. Plus, made camping out more comfortable, not that he would admit to such aloud.

Later that night Thorin was roused out of his incredibly comfortable bed by noises in the forest. He quickly rolled out of the bed, coming up with his blade ready as he stared out into the forest. A goblin came out of the woods then, sniffing and moving around trying to pick up a trail of some kind, but not crossing the ward zone, staring directly at Thorin for a moment before turning away, as if he hadn't seen him at all. _Potter's magic worked!_

Now he could see numerous goblins moving around the camp, but they never noticed it or its inhabitants, avoiding the area automatically thanks to the power of Harry's runic array. They spoke one another in their guttural tongue, which Thorin only knew a few words in. The word 'hunt' he knew, and "Longbeard', that was mentioned practically every other sentence the goblins spoke, and he thought he also caught his common name, Thorin a time or two. _Are they looking for me? Or did they just spot me and decide to have some fun?_

He moved over to rouse Harry, only to find him sitting up as well though he had not left his bed, simply staring out at the goblins. "So these are goblins here? They look vaguely similar to the ones at home, but not quite the same. These are larger, dirtier and darker, less civilized too."

Thorin gasped, turning back to stare at the goblins, who it seemed hadn't heard Harry. Before he could put this down to luck Harry spoke up. "Don't worry, the Notice Me Not field will cover sound as well. Are such parties like that normal in this area of the world, or do you think they're after you in particular?"

Gripping his sword Thorin pulled out his pack and pulled on a helmet and armored greaves. . _Wish I had a shield as well, but I've borne worse._ "I don't know, and I don't care." Thorin growled.

"Is there any way to tell? I could use the same language spell I used on you on one them, but I'm afraid they'd noticed that if they're at all magically sensitive."

"How do you feel about wiping them all out?" Thorin said growling angrily, being this close to the hated enemy Thorin's hands shook in rage, his fury tingeing his voice. "Too many good dwarves and good dams have gone to their deaths from such creatures for me to let any of them pass peaceably if I can help it!"

"Might wish to curb that in the future." Harry said with a shrug, though his eyes had noticeably hardened, watching Thorin closely, before turning to the goblins. "But right now, yes I can definitely get behind that idea so long as we take one of them alive to question. But there might be more of them out there than we can handle at present if you're so set on attacking the whole crew..."

"I am." Thorin said, his temper continuing to rise while Harry watched. Harry made a note that his new acquaintance had one hell of a temper on him, one that very obviously made him throw caution to the wind.

Still that was for pondering later. Right now Harry simply nodded. "Then let me hit the entire area with a sound dampening spell. We'll still all be able to hear one another, but no sound will travel beyond a certain point. That way if some of them think to call for help and there are others around, they won't be heard."

"Do it." Thorin ordered and Harry scowled, resisting the urge to change the dwarf's hair color or make his beard disappear just to show that he was not under the dwarf's command. But right now he had other guinea pigs for his magic.

"Very well give me a second."Concentrating Harry pulled up his magic, then raised his hand into the air and intoned " _Muffilatio_ ". He had no idea how wide the area that spell would cover was, but he watched it expand through the night for a moment, possibly as much as a league in every direction. Once he the spell settled into place, disappearing to his sense for now, he nodded over at the dwarf. "So how are we going to do this?"

In reply Thorin simply ran out from the camp, appearing as if from nowhere to the goblins' senses on their flank. "Baruk Khazad!" His sword flashed, cutting one goblin's head off entirely, before whipping back to slice into another's side as he roared a battle cry. "Tanar Durin Nur!" The axes of the dwarves! Remember Durin's Folk!

Harry gaped at him then shrugged, his eyes glittering with battle light. "That works."He raced forward shouting aloud. "If you were a student at Hogwarts, you'd be a Gryffindor, no doubt!"

With that he plunged the sword of Gryffindor into one goblin, pulling it out quickly and making a shallow cut on another goblin's cheek, who jumped back in time to avoid the full slash. He turned away, concentrating on to others and using magic now that he had won himself some space outside the camp while behind him that goblin he had nicked fell screaming as the poison of the basilisk did its work.

" _Snorcack Grex_!" Laughing suddenly Harry conjured up huge creatures, the snorcacks that Luna had always been going on around about, simply creating them from his imagination by following her descriptions of them. They barreled through the goblins all scattered through the woods around the wizard. Shrieks and bellows of astonishment and fear abounded while Harry also sent out offensive spells. A _Bombarda_ spell blew a goblin apart, another spell swiftly grabbing all of the bits and pieces of said goblin before hurling them at another with bone crushing force. Then Harry began to throw around transfiguration spells, the ground and forest coming alive.

Thorin's and his opponents all stopped and stared at the sheer carnage the wizard had created, but Thorin laughed and began to hack at the goblins with renewed vigor. Whatever strange chance had brought Harry to him, Thorin was suddenly beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe his quest, the quest of his people had suddenly gained a powerful ally.

By this point most of the goblins were trying to get away from the fearsome twosome, desperate to get some distance to use their bows and arrows. Thorin didn't let them escape, rushing after the goblins hacking and slashing while Harry's conjured beasts continued to make a mockery of the battlefield as he used magic and even sword against those few goblins willing to close with him.

Moments after the battle was begun it ended, with only one goblin still alive, stunned and Immobilized. Thorin came back through the woods towards the fire of the camp, noticing that he could see it easily enough, including the two beds that were still there, even though Thorin himself was now out of that field.

"Magnificent magic," he said, only speaking half about what Harry had shown in the battle. "Did you take a prisoner?"

"Seeing as you didn't seem to be any kind of frame of mind to do so, yes." Harry said with a laugh, though there was a grim note to his voice. He had enjoyed that fight, the goblins were quite patently evil going by the stories Thorin had shared, and Harry had also noticed the trophies some of them carried, skulls, bones and other souvenirs. In particular he had noticed that some of them were tiny, like those of babies or extremely young children .

Thorin shrugged, looking away uncomfortably at the memory of the fact that he had been taken by battle-lust like some green warrior. "Wake him up and use that spell on him then. I'm interested now, since some of these goblin scum shouted my name and the name of my father when they saw me."

With Harry translating Thorin questioned the goblin closely, making Harry wince occasionally when he went through with his threats of cutting off toes every time the goblin tried to not answer a question.

"The white Orc, he's dead!" Thorin said standing up and moving back rapidly once he had gotten a bit of the truth out of the creature. "Azog is dead, dead and gone! There's no way he could've lived through that wound!"

"Evidently he has and has it out for you."Harry shrugged. "Is there anything we can use right now, he said something about a base didn't he?" Even with his spell allowing him to understand the words, the Goblin's snarls and use of local locations made the directions impossible for Harry to follow.

Thorin nodded. "Aye, I know the place, but are you certain you're up to go looking for trouble?" Thorin had no idea about the long term effects of spell-made wounds, and the Human had handled himself well, but still, Humans were normally much weaker and less durable than his own kind.

"I'm up for it." Harry smiled grimly, touching the goblin's chest, were two skulls and a few bits of jewelry hung, taken in some raid or other. "I most definitely am up for it.

Thorin smiled equally grimly, then sliced the goblin's throat neatly. Harry's eyes widened slightly at the act, but he made no comment. Those skulls and other souvenirs were making his fingers twitch. "Then we'll leave at first light for this gathering point of theirs. I'm interested in seeing your magic in action once again Harry."

Realizing his tone might have given too much away, Thorin glanced at Harry's sword. "I was astonished that one goblin you scratched with that died. Poisons rarely if ever work on goblins or orcs."

"Yes, well as I said, the sword of Gryffindor is rather special. The poison from a basilisk was able to dispatch a soul imbued into a book, and I read afterwards that it is one of the deadliest substances ever discovered in my world."

"Really? Interesting." Thorin said now looking at the blade with far more interest than he had shown even when he realized its craftsmanship. _Poison, not an area any dwarf knows much about, but, if the dragon yet lives, could such as that work on him, at least to weaken the beast?_

"There is a lot of meaning behind that 'interesting'." Harry said looking at the dwarf quizzically. "Care to share?"

Thorin looked away again scowling. "It is not an easy thing to share. To share our fate, our shame. We might have fought together Harry Potter, but that does not make us close." _And my hope for the future is too precious to share so easily._

"Thorin, you helped me when I arrived, you could've left me for dead. Instead you welcomed me and gave me food and carried me for two days." Harry said. "You've told me about this world, gave me information I would have had to take weeks to acquire otherwise, I owe you. If you need my help, ask and I will give it."Harry smiled. _Gryffindor's charge!_

Thorin stared at him for a moment then looked away. "Let us burn these bodies then retreat into your protected array. We leave at first light. And after we destroy that I, I will decide on if you are trustworthy enough to learn more about my people"

End chapter

Now, this Harry isn't as well-trained as the Harry in ATP was before his trip into the Negative Zone, nor did he have as much time alone to train and research, those his combat spells, especially transfiguration are close, and he is something of a runes prodigy. Mind you he does have a mokeskin pouch and books within, as well as a talent for Runes and runic arrays. His power level however is far lower than ATP Harry, and his leadership skills haven't been tested. His skills with the sword and in hand to hand are practically nonexistent, but the poison of the blade makes up for some of that shortcoming. He is also suffering from somewhat less all-consuming grief, though it is far more present in his mind.

I think my Thorin is a bit more talkative than the original, but I hope other than that aspect I nailed his personality well enough.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this story, and have a happy thanksgiving.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Tolkien or Harry Potter.

I said I'd try to get this out this month so HAH!

Been a while since this was updated, but blame the poll, not me. The next chapter of Magic of the Force will be posted in a few hours - I am hoping my new beta for it can get it back to me tonight, but if not, I will still post the chapter with a warning.

This has been betaed by ultimaflare0.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: A Wizard's Meeting**

Gandalf the Grey looked up, his beard twitching as a thoughtful frown appeared in his face before he sipped at a mug of ale. He'd come to the Prancing Pony to drop off a message for a friend, or rather the messenger of a friend, since Gandalf had no idea where said friend actually was at this present moment in time. While wizards were said to be all-knowing, their all-knowing act usually was based on a lot of footwork, some knowledge of those parts of Middle Earth that most individuals could not see or sense, and a certain level of intelligence. In this case, while he had quite a bit of knowledge about the individual, none of it pertained to his physical location at this point in time.

Sipping thoughtfully at his ale, he finished writing the message before sending a compliment to the owner of the Prancing Pony a Dexter Butterbur, whose young grandson had just begun working with him, something the man was rightly proud of. He then retired to his room, with another even larger stein of ale for himself having had his fill of people, noise and chatter for a time.

What his senses as one of the Maiar were telling him needed some thought. Despite the fact he looked like a disreputable vagabond to some, and to others who could see past first impressions a valuable and learned advisor, he was greater even than that. He was clothed in the form of a man true, but still had the senses that had marked him as one of the Maiar, a being of power created by Illuvatar himself before the Music of the Ainur. And what they were telling him was… confusing.

There had been a change to the feeling of the magic of Middle Earth. At first it hadn't been very noticeable, like a gong in the distance, or a crashing wave hundreds of miles away, making a very profound sound but one you'd have to strain to hear from where you were. Since then, there had been a few more instances, each of which were far, far smaller, mere shimmering changes of color to the general magic, subtle but noticeable to any of the brethren who were nearby.

Not that Gandalf thought that he actually was very near. From how faint it was, it could be anywhere in an area of seven or eight days journey in any direction, Gandalf couldn't localize and more than that, which was irritating.

 _I wonder if Radagast has gotten into the bad moss again…_

Yet as the night wore on and those shiverings of magic continued, Gandalf realized it could not be any of his brethren. Only himself or Saruman, the greatest of their order could draw upon magic for that long. And someone definitely was, using and directing magic in a way that only the Maiar or Valar could do. Elves of course had magic, and some of them could do things with it that even the Maiar would have trouble doing, but their ability to craft magic into spell form was somewhat limited, with only a very few being able to surpass those limitation. Gandalf knew all such intimately, and would have known the touch of their minds, and indeed ridden to aid them, immediately if it had been any such.

 _If only I could localize it further! If I could recognize a single spell being used, I think that one there, it is something to do with concealment? But of course it actually does what it is supposed to, concealing not only the user from physical senses but from my own magical senses at this long a distance. If I could only recognize a single spell, I could use the flavor of it to track this individual down._

It was something like being a watcher on a tower with a spyglass trying to see over the horizon. The sunlight or as in this case the darkness worked against you, and you couldn't see details even if you could somehow figure out there was something out there. "Botheration," he muttered aloud, lighting his pipe with a finger and putting his feet up as he puffed thoughtfully on the pipe.

Eventually the pulses of magic ended, not abruptly, simply petering out. That was good, that seemed to indicate at least that the magic user in question hadn't died in the combat, which may or may not be good in the long term. And it was not Saruman, the feel of the magic told Gandalf that, nor was it Elrond or Galadriel (though the idea of the Lady of the Woods leaving said woods was somewhat laughable) or any other elfin spellcrafter. Nor was there any kind of… taint to the magic, so it was not some unknown or hidden remnant of the great darkness.

This meant it was someone entirely new to Gandalf using magic. That was an astonishing and rather worrisome thought. But again from the feel of it Gandalf couldn't tell if the being was good, evil, or anything else.

He couldn't even figure out the direction! it was as if his own senses were somehow being obscured. And he wondered why. _Or perhaps not so much obscured as occluded by a greater rippling?_

Gandalf frowned, putting down his pipe and staring off into the distance, his eyes glowing momentarily as he seemed to almost toss off the raiment of the vagabond wanderer as that thought occurred to him. But he couldn't do so entirely, his purpose in Middle Earth did not allow for that, and his raiment was too permanent fixture of him at present for Gandalf to cast off for over-long. After a moment his eyes faded back, the gray of his raiment settling fully once more onto him, changing him again into the somewhat normal if eccentric gray-haired old man he always looked.

 _If I want answers to that question, I must go to the sea, and speak to Lord Ulmo himself, get him to at least carry a message to the others if he himself does not know what has gone on. Odd._ The impression he had gotten in that one brief moment was a 'wait and see' feeling sent to him from Irmo and Manwe himself. And after a moment's contemplation Gandalf decided to agree to do just that.

Not willingly of course, but Gandalf did have other demands on his time at present. _If I didn't have this meeting with Thorin and his band and finding them a thief to go on an adventure with, I might very well hunt down the feeling, the idea of waiting and seeing what happens or no. Still, I do and that is that. Even the wisest cannot be in two places at once._

Sighing he wondered what his lady and the others were up to, or if they knew themselves. Surprise after all could work in your favor or against you depending. Gandalf went to bed that night, then left be in early in the morning after tipping the owner of the establishment heavily, the better to leave and make a good impression on him and his family. Before heading towards the Shire at his normal, seemingly leisurely but ground devouring pace.

 **OOOOOOO**

Harry and Thorin stalked through the woods following the directions of their goblin prisoner until they found a trail showing where another group of goblins had passed. From there they tried to back track that group to their den, trusting to that rather than the orc's directions. This wasn't something either of them were actually very good at, Thorin had some woodcraft, able to spot the trail itself, but that was all. But then again this group of orcs didn't seem to care to cover their tracks.

They were concealed under one of Harry's spells as they moved of course. While Harry had taken to heart Thorin's statement about being too profligate with his magic he wasn't about to stop using it when the situation required it.

They moved through the woods silently for the most part, gesturing this way or that when one spotted something they needed to see, content with their own thoughts and the hunt for now. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence as should've been supposed between two people who hadn't known one another for more than a few days, thrown together on what many would consider a ridiculously foolish quest.

But it wasn't, rather it was the silence of grim purpose. Thorin was consumed with his hate of the orcs and worry about this Azog creature while Harry's mind continued to flash back to the little belt of skulls, fueling his own anger. He thought he had known evil before, but the orcs represented an evil greater than any he had met in his own world.

 _Tommy would've probably loved them, that tells you all you need to know._ That thought brought a wintry little smile to Harry's face as he glanced down at the scars on his hands and forearms for brief moment, waiting for Thorin to find the trail again. The battle in the Ministry and what had happened to Hermione was a wound that had yet to scab over let alone heal like his physical wounds and he found himself eager for a fight, if only so he could once more push those memories away for a time.

Thorin turned to him, gesturing Harry to look over his shoulder, his words a whisper. Their movements might be covered by Harry's spell, but that didn't mean he was going to get complacent. "Look at this," he said gesturing down. "They broke off here from a larger band."

"Is the other group an attack force? Could they be attacking some settlement nearby?" Harry asked quickly.

"I do not think so. I think this was two scout groups who broke off from one another after leaving their camp. The other has headed straight south from here, though how long they would keep to that course I do not know. And judging by the number of tracks I do not think their numbers would be enough to attack any of the settlements around here."

Looking around Thorin noted other signs of recent movement through the woods further along the trail and nodded grimly. "We are close. The spells on us, they are not draining you?" He asked, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Harry.

Harry shook his head. "No, if I had to keep them up for days on end maybe, but not for a single night's work."

"And how much activity will they cover?"

"It can't cover us attacking them for more than a few seconds if that's what you're thinking. It'll bring too much notice to us for the spell to redirect."

"Pity," Thorin muttered shaking his head. "You'll have to start using attack spells in there then. I think we're going to be very heavily outnumbered."

Harry smirked, and nodded, noting that Thorin didn't even mention the idea of retreating. Thorin's anger, his rage at the orcs was an almost but not quite visible thing around him, a sense unseen, and Harry wondered about it. _Then again, if these were Death Eaters and they had massacred people and taken trophies like that would I be any different?_

The answer to that one was simple, and the two of them continued on their way, with Harry readying his sword in one hand, and clicking his fingers quietly in the other, readying a several dozen spells in his mind. _Transfiguration first I think, create chaos in the battlefield, little things then bigger things, then attack spells. Confusion chaos, and we ride the whirlwind._

The orcs were hiding out in a series of interconnected bog caves, low hills in the terrain of the forest. It wasn't a very large seeming den. But it was large enough to conceal at least 100, possibly as many as 200 warriors, given how closely orcs could be packed into a space. Thorin whispered that to Harry, gesturing at the various entrances they saw and the guards hidden in the scrub brush here and there.

"Why weren't they in the trees?" Harry asked. "Surely a guard in a tree would have a better vantage point."

"Orcs and goblins do not climb trees Harry," Thorin said with a shrug. "I think the orcs shoulders can't seemingly reach above them like that, and goblins I believe are somewhat scared of heights. There might be more to it than that, but I have never known or heard tell of any of the dark races willingly climbing a tree."

"Weird, but all right. This is your show Thorin, what should we do?" Harry asked.

Thorin scratched at his full beard thoughtfully, frowning somewhat. "We take out those guards first, we'll start there." he said after a moment, pointing at one. "He is out of sight of the others, silence him and move on, take out all of the guards, then…" he looked up at Harry. "Can you somehow block up some of those entrances?"

"I can bring the entrances down," Harry said with a shrug. "A single Bombarda spell should do it. In fact I could bury them all in there."

"They would simply tunnel another way out, best to wipe out the whole nest. Collapse a few start a fire in another, get them running out into the open and hold the entrance against them. We do not want to fight orcs underground. Not in one of their own foul dens." Thorin shook his head.

Seeing Harry looking at him quizzically Thorin shrugged. "If you were a dwarf, the two of us fully armed, armored and with a dozen other dwarves beside us, perhaps we could attempt it. But fighting orcs and goblins underground is a losing proposition if you're not prepared for it, even among my race. And anyone your size Harry Potter or larger would have an even worse time of it."

Harry nodded then cracked his neck explosively, wriggling out his fingers. "Then let's get it stuck in with these motherfucker's."

Thorin's face blanked, and he nodded very slowly. "I appreciate the sentiment, however…" Before Harry could react, Thorin's fist thumped him in the stomach hard enough to smack the wind out of him, dumping Harry onto his knees gasping for air. "That curse is far too violent even for orcs among my people. Do not even think of using it in front of any dwarf ever again, is that clear?"

"Duly noted," Harry gasped, actually chuckling a little.. _Dammit, dwarves are a lot stronger than they seem._ If not for Thorin pulling the punch, it might've cracked ribs.

Thorin waited patiently until Harry stood up, and nodded at him before moving on. They dealt with each of the guards quickly, silencing them without the alarm being raised. After that, Thorin went about and gathered several dozen faggots of wood from nearby piles which had been partly hidden among the undergrowth, before piling them up in one of the entrances. Harry moved to another, and Thorin put flint to tender, lighting the wood.

Taking that as his signal Harry sent a Bombarda straight up at the top of the entrance, shattering the stone and earth there, before retreating quickly out of the tunnel as it collapsed. "Can you do something with wind Harry?" Thorin asked, gesturing to the fire.

"I'll try," Harry replied, frowning. He actually didn't know any spells that would control wind like that, but realized it would be really dangerous to try. Air might seemingly weigh nothing, but try to move it and you would soon realize that was not the case.

Frowning he pushed his hands forward, imagining what he wanted to do, and a small zephyr appeared between them then curled forward into the smoke from the fire, pushing it into the cavern. Harry could only keep it up for a few moments before he began to gasp, shaking his head and canceling the spell. "That, that took a lot out of me. I don't want to try that again."

Thorin nodded, making a note of that. it seemed as if material creation was actually easier than weather manipulation, odd but he wasn't a wizard so was not in position to question it. Reaching down he grabbed Harry by the upper arm and pulled him along to last entrance. "That was well done, the smoke will force them out."

When Harry looked at him in question once more Thorin chuckled. It was a not very nice sound. "Underground smoke like that is actually more dangerous than the fire itself. The fire won't spread, but the smoke will, and no living creature save a dragon can breathe in such fumes."

At that Harry finally understood, nodding. He stood up, throwing his shoulders back and readying the Sword of Gryffindor, his fingers once again twitching as he brought to mind the spells he had started to picture in his mind earlier. "Well then, I suppose we should get ready to receive our guests."

"HAH!" Thorin barked a laugh bringing up his own longsword, a heavy, ugly looking thing which wore its grim purpose in every inch of its gray steel. "Aye, I suppose we should."

It was a very panicked band of orcs and goblins that charged out of the cave, but these were after all orcs and goblins and it was the very rare goblin who was unharmed at any point. These came out armed yet. The first few charged to meet the two interlopers as soon as they saw them, Harry's spells having faded during all the activity they'd already done.

"Baruk Khazad, Tanar Durin Nur!" Thorin met them with a roar and a yell, his sword hacking at the first two, bowling an orc over entirely to smash into two goblins, before his sword flicked to either side, cutting two goblins down before bringing it back up to finish the fourth with a slice across the throat before it could get its feet under it.

Harry charged with him, his hand rising and sparking with magical energies. A second later several dozen small animals and a few larger ones appeared all around him, causing chaos. The small animals grabbed the orc's attention.

Even as they met that group however, other orcs had actually forged their way through the smoke now that Harry's wind was no longer pushing it into the tunnel, pushing the wood aside after drowning the fire with buckets of water from inside. Harry noticed this, and again conjured up more animals, this time bears and wolves, sending them with a mental command into the attacking group. That command wouldn't last for very long, but he'd chosen predators thinking that their forms would force them to act in the same way as the rabbits or others did when confronted with violence: by their instincts. It certainly worked that way in the books he'd read that spell in, a gift from Professor McGonagall in a vain attempt to regain some of Harry's respect.

That was all Harry had time to concentrate on before the fight around him took his full intention. One sword came at his head, and Harry barely got his own sword up in time, smacking the blow aside, though it was a powerful blow, almost enough to knock Harry to his knees. The orcs were strong, stronger than he had thought they were given the earlier encounter, and worse there seemed to be something in the air. _It was either that, of moving the wind like I did took it out of me more than I thought,_ Harry thought to himself as he conjured up a shield to defend himself, which clanged and rattled from a few swords.

He killed six more goblins with well-placed Rifela spells, which didn't seem to take it out of him as much as the area effect conjuration spells currently were, which was good. _Okay, so I can work with this…_

"Kazad, Baruk Khazad!" Thorin was a short, hairy nightmare, bellowing and roaring, his long hair flying as he turned this way and that his sword seemingly light in his hands despite its heavy appearance. It cut and hack at his opponents, and Thorin used anything he could grab to hand as a shield at times, a cob of wood, a downed weapon, a shield from one of his opponents. A small hand axe which he had grabbed up and looked at for a split second as it came to his hand caused him to falter for a brief second, but then Thorin then tore into the orcs with even more ferocity.

"Thorin!" shouted Harry, blocking a blow to that would've split his head open from above, holding his sword locked there with both hands before he could throw the orc backwards slightly enough to fire a point blank Rifela to his chest, ending his life and the life of a goblin behind him. "We're in danger of being surrounded here!" He said, pointing towards where the fire had been put out and a dozen large orcs and about eight or nine smaller goblins had finished with his conjured animals. They were now moving towards them around the edge of the tunnel they were currently fighting in front of.

"Into the tunnel then! Just enough to get them to be unable to attack us from the sides! Back-to-back!" Thorin ordered, and roared forward shouting that battle cry of his again. The goblins quailed away from him, but the orcs were made of sterner stuff, and he cut down two of them as Harry dealt with a third.

Harry waited until the group trying to take them from behind had bunched up in the entrance way of the cavern, moving towards him and then fired a point blank "Bombarda!" spell into the middle of the group. It exploded, shattering all of the goblins and more than a few of the orcs, though several of the orcs survived the explosion, which wasn't as powerful as Harry had intended. He frowned at that, making a note of it for later. **That** he couldn't put down to being tired, Harry knew he had put in enough strength for that spell to be more powerful than that.

But then the orcs were all around them, and the two of attackers went back to back as Thorin had ordered. Thorin noticed out of the corner of his eye that Harry's swordwork needed a lot of work, and furthermore Harry was far too reckless. Though he seemed adept at dodging strikes of the last-minute Thorin had to admit. His sword's poison also seemed to be doing just as much damage as its actual cutting-edge, killing orcs with a bare scratch of the metal, and the goblins died screaming within seconds. Even the orcs seemed frightened by that, and more than one paused in their rush.

The fight continued unabated for a few more minutes as fewer and fewer of their opponents tried to rush at them. Eventually the tide stopped, and Harry stood gasping, a few scratches and nicks here and there, but nothing dangerous. Indeed his magic was already working to heal him for some reason. It had never done that back at home, but somewhere in the area between worlds and during his fight with Tom Riddle Harry's magic, and its relation to his physical body, had changed. It did nothing for his scars though

"A good fight Harry Potter," said Thorin, looking around and making sure that there were no other enemies. "You start gathering the bodies," he went on brusquely, "I'll head inside."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to split up like that? Seems reckless."

"What's reckless is your swordwork," Thorin said with a shake of his head. "In fact I'm not even going to call it swordwork, you use that sword is if you've never have had a lesson in your life! It has a point lad, use it, don't just slash all the time and keep your be-damned wrist loose! Don't go for so many overhead blows, you might look like a hero from a sage, but that kind of…"

This went on for some time. Thorin was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to both weapons and their use. Harry's amateur swordsmanship offended his sensibilities.

"I'm sorry I was never taught to use a sword," Harry said, his lips quirking, "and you haven't answered my question."

Thorin shook his head at the idea of a young man like this owning a sword like that and not having gotten lessons in its use, but he had more important things to do right now. "You're too tall, and your unused to fighting in the dark anyway. You would need to use a spell to see as well as I can in the dark, and you have never fought in a tunnel have you?"

"Not before this moment no," Harry said gesturing to the entrance of the cavern around them, which after all wasn't that very large, barely giving them a few inches to either side of their bodies.

"Exactly." With that Thorin turned and without another word forged his way deeper into the cavern over the bodies of the dead, leaving Harry shaking his head behind him.

Thorin found that it wasn't very long, connecting to the other entrances quickly in a large area, about 300 feet to a side. Looking at the walls Thorin saw that this area at least was a natural cavern, but the rest had just as obviously been dug out at some point.

He made certain there were no survivors, finding dozens more bodies. Some of them had possibly asphyxiated by the smoke, which still wafted here and there in the area, and more had been trampled by their fellows, the smallest goblins and the slowest dying beneath the boots of their so-called comrades. A few dozen were also buried under a cave in at the other side, which must have been started by the explosive spell Harry had used. Here and there Thorin also saw other… remains, and Thorin could feel his lips twisting into a rictus snarl as he turned away from what had been the orc band's cookpot.

Pulling at his beard with his free hand as he counted bodies, Thorin smiled grimly. _A good fight, and Harry's magic is suddenly efficacious. And that sword..._ As he marched back the way he came after making certain all of the bodies were indeed dead, Thorin's heavyset face set into even grimmer lines. It was time to do something he had not been looking forward to, time to share his people's pain. _But I will be doing it with a person who might hopefully help us regain what we have lost._

Outside Harry had gone around doing the same thing Thorin did inside, cutting at the bodies lightly with his sword, then dragging the bodies into a large pile. Twice he had been surprised by goblins playing dead, but a single scratch from the sword-that-had-been-swum-in-Basilisk-venom saw them off.

"I'll deal with that," Thorin said gruffly as he came up, a thick thumb pointing over his shoulder momentarily. "That place however deserves a more wizardly touch."

"You mean I should cave it in now?"

"Aye," Thorin said nodding. "And lad, don't go in there," he said quickly grabbing Harry's shoulder roughly as Harry had moved to the entrance.

Harry looked at Thorin quizzically but something in the dwarf's eyes made him realize he didn't want to know what was behind that command. Nodding, he began to throw out a few Bombarda spells debacle the entrance way, walking the spell along the top of the tunnel until the entire hill began to rumble, caving in on itself.

By that point Thorin had piled the bodies into several reeking, loathsome mounds, which he piled over with wood, lighting it up with flint and tinder with the aid of some cooking oils he along with a bottle of the foul liquor orcs drank. The bonfires began quickly, and Harry came back, standing beside Thorin as he lit the last mound.

"Come," Thorin said, gesturing away into the woods. "Best we get away from the smell and the smoke ourselves. Even in death orcs and goblins can strike down the unwary."

Harry nodded, and as they moved off at a trot into the sword to his belt once more. "Perhaps you can answer a question for me. When I was trying magic back there against the orcs there was some kind of dampening effect. It was harder than it should be to use magic around them."

Thorin shrugged. "I know not about such things, my own people have never had magic of the nature that you wield. You would have to ask an actual Wizard about such things. Still it would not surprise me that such exists in orcs in particular. Both of those races our evil creatures, created in the dark times as abominable mirror images of elves, men and even dwarves curse them."

"Created?" Harry said sharply "An entire race?" Harry shuddered, shaking his head. "All right, that's a scary thought."

"Hah," Thorin barked a laugh, though there was nothing humorous in the sound. "That was among least of the fell deeds in the ages past. I know my own people's parts in that time, both fell and proud, but not the entirety. If you would have the entire tale, t'would be best to talk to someone who knows it from beginning to end. All I know is, that Morgoth the Betrayer was a Fallen Valar, and he made war against all mortals, dwarves, elves and men in Middle Earth. It was only when the other Valar, including my people's lord Aule banded together and moved against him in force that he was overthrown. Before that, Morgoth might've had a few setbacks here and there, but in general, he was simply too powerful for any mere mortal to defeat in his mighty fortress of Angband."

"Lovely," Harry muttered. "I will want that story in full later on. In fact, I'd like a history lesson about the entirety of Middle Earth."

"That is a tale true, but one for another time, as it is a dark tale, and we've had enough dark deeds today." Thorin replied.

The two of them traveled silently again for a time, this time the silence of companions who had fought beside one another as well as the silence of their own thoughts. The moon had waned by the time Thorin found a good resting place for the day. He looked at Harry and Harry nodded, beginning to conjure up the beds they would use for the night. Thorin didn't want to get used to that kind of luxury, but after that fight he felt they had earned it. He himself went out hunting, or rather trapping. Thorin had no eyes for archery, and little woodcraft for stalking, but he was good at making traps and placing them in the right places to catch the unwary animal.

Soon he came back to find that Harry had once again made up the campsite, two beds and a fire pit, which he'd actually done by hand Thorin was pleased to note. He'd conjured up the beds of course, but stones had been excised from the surrounding area to form a rough circle, and he had placed wood in it correctly in such a manner that the smoke would not travel far. The boy he was learning.

 _No_ , Thorin thought, _the young man was learning. He might be the same age or younger even then my cousins for his own race, but he is a man, one who was blooded even before that fight with that apparition that came with him._

Harry held up a cup of camp water from a small cairn he had created, and Thorin nodded gratefully, dipping in a bit of his own ale into the water, the alcohol being so strong it even watered down f it was almost as strong as the alcohol most humans made do with. "One of these days I'm going to try that straight up you know," Harry said, gesturing at where Thorin was now sipping from his own flask.

"Perhaps," Thorin said chuckling into his bear, perhaps. "You'll have to build up some immunity first however."

Harry nodded falling silent, and for a moment the two of them simply stared into the crackling fire. Then Thorin began. "My name is Thorin Oakenshield as I said. But I am not a simple warrior or smith as I appear. I am the son of Thror, son of Thrain, the rightful king of Erebor. Or I would be, if not for the horror that is Smaug." Thorin did not look up at Harry as he spoke, this tale would be easier if he stared into the fire the better to remember what had ended his kingdom, and the fact his listener was not of his kin.

"The Lonely Mountain…" He began again, shaking his head. "Bright were our halls and strong our hearts in those days…" Thorin went on from there, describing the halls of Erebor as best he could for a time, the wonder of mind and hand that had gone into the greatest kingdom of dwarves of this age. And then his tale turned dark, with the coming of Smaug.

Harry interrupted the tail only twice, asking about the weapons they had used and the defenses of the town of man which Thorin willingly told him about, and again when he mentioned the elves left his people to die. "They just turned aside!?" Harry said incredulously. "They didn't even offer to help your people? Not even with food or anything of that nature?"

"No," Thorin said growling the word as his hands clenched in front of his lap. "They give us nothing, they turned us away, and when a few of my people tried to enter Mirkwood, tried to go through them to seek aid elsewhere, none returned! The elves would not help, either through fear, or uncaring, I know not and care not. We had to march far afield, towards the Iron Hills before finding aid from our cousins there, and many a dam and child died in the journey."

Looking at Thorin's profile, his eyes glittering darkly, Harry realized that those losses meant even more to Thorin then it would have to a human leader. Some social importance there wasn't crossing over here, but he set his curiosity aside for now, concentrating on the Thorin's story as the dwarf started to speak again.

At the end of the tale, Harry frowned, asking some questions, most of which were about the humans of Dale of course. Thorin answered, though he didn't know anything about what was going on there at this point. He knew that the humans had created a kind of Watertown there near the ruins of old Dale, and that a surprising number of them had survived the coming of the Dragon, though their houses and livelihoods had not. But unlike his people, they could not call upon the largess of distant neighbors, there was no nearby human country that would come to their aid, and traversing the lands between them and the nearest one would have killed more than staying and trying to rebuild had. Dwarves, Thorin said with a sort of grim pride, were tougher than men, even their children to such hardship.

Harry looked away after that, frowning as he stared out into the woods. _And I thought my life was tough._ "I understand. So, you and your friends are following these portents and signs that it is time to take back the mountain? I really don't have much truck with prophecy like that,"

He saw Thorin cock his head quizzically at that, and Harry shook his head. "I mean I don't trust it, but still… what can I do to help?"

"As simple as that?" Thorin asked, his deep set eyes narrowing as he looked at the young man. Even though Harry had said something similar that had been when he had been ignorant of the true depth of Thorin's plight, his people's plight and what might be asked of him.

"You're my friend and you were wronged, your people slaughtered, of course I will help." Harry said with a shrug. "But no," he said with that sudden fey grin of his that made Thorin realize anew Harry was not quite right in the head. "I'm not going to do it for free. I want something in return."

Thorin's eyes narrowed, but Harry went on unhurriedly. "I want to know everything you can teach me about this Middle Earth, I also want an introduction to these wizards you've mentioned. You said one of them was helping you organize this expedition?"

At Thorin nodded, relaxing slightly, seeing that his friend wasn't going to demand gold up front or anything of that nature. Even if he had Thorin would've acquiesced of course, that sword and what it could possibly do represented too good a weapon to pass up. And he would not stoop to killing the man in front of him or attempting to take it from him that way. Dishonorable deeds like that had a habit of coming back to haunt you.

"And I also want sword lessons," Harry said after seconds thought. "Evidently," finished dryly "I need them."

Thorin looked at him, then began to laugh, a booming chuckle that reverberated around their campsite. "Agreed! Agreed and thrice agreed Harry Potter!" He held out his hand, and Harry took it, shaking it firmly.

"Now," Thorin said briskly, ending the hand clasp. "We've had enough of grim talk, let us share tales of happier times. Those odd creatures you used in the first battle last night interest me, what where did they come from, and is there a tale behind how quickly they came to your mind?"

"Oh yes," Harry said with a grin, remembering happier times with his friends, before he was ostracized by the majority of the school, before war had come into their lives, before he had realized his life was never going to be totally his own. "Luna Lovegood, the quirkiest witch I ever met. And perhaps one of the surest friends one could ever make."

"Lovegood?" Thorin asked blanched. "Is, is that a mistranslation perhaps?"

Harry laughed. "No, that was really her name. And yes there is a story behind those creatures. You see…"

 **OOOOOOO**

Gandalf had reached the edge of the Shire, moving past the small post of Bounders having had to apologize for not having any fireworks with him this time. He could of course have entered the Shire without dealing with the small, officious border patrol, but why bother doing so when he had no need to?

He stopped just out of sight of the hobbit behind him when he felt the feeling of magic being worked again in the distance. Someone was casting several magic spells in quick succession, including one heavy spell, a kind of wind manipulation, and he shook his head ruefully. The wizard in question was going to feel that in the morning, Gandalf knew from long experience. Manwe did not like people who tried to manipulate his air.

Unfortunately the feelings again cut off before Gandalf could localize them. He'd gotten a direction from the pulses that time, but nothing more. _Ah well, that will come in time I suppose. If whoever is using magic continues to do so it will be simple enough to hunt them down and have a long conversation with whoever it is. For now, I had best find an inn for the evening. I will approach Baggins on the morrow._

 **OOOOOOO**

It took Harry and Thorin a few hours to find the road the next morning and two full days traveling at the top speed they could manage on their own two feet to travel within sight of the hobbit's odd, country. "I will be grateful to meet up with my kin for more than one reason. We will make better time with ponies, and I know one of my companions has already purchased such for our journey."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I've never been on a horse, so I imagine it will be an amusing moment when I tried to ride, even if only on a pony."

Ahead of them there was a small wooden guard post, a table set outside it. At the table sat two smallfolk, puffing on their pipes. On the table the remains of a heavy meal for four in was visible as the two came close. Harry took a moment to look at them as he and Thorin strode up. They were short, shorter by a few inches or so than Thorin, and where he was squat with muscle, these simply seemed short. They were both stolid, not quite fat but definitely well fed, with wide, round faces and curly hair.

They also, Harry was amused to note, did not have shoes on. This was visible as one of them had propped his feet up on the table. The feet in question were larger than their size suggested, hairy and calloused heavily on the bottom.

The owner of those feet looked up lazily, then blinked three times rapidly as if unable to comprehend what he was seeing. He then hopped to his feet, nudged his companion and the both of them moved out into the road, picking up long heavy looking staves as they went. The staves weren't pointed, but Harry imagined that they could crack a man's head easily enough. "Are they as strong as you are?" he had asked out of the corner of his mouth.

Thorin chuckled at the very idea. "I think not." He replied dryly. "Hobbits are supposedly decent enough warriors with bows and slings when roused, but it takes something truly spectacular to do so. I have no idea why Gandalf wanted us to meet in the Shire, but in our last meeting he claimed to have found a thief for us, though with your inclusion it might not even be necessary. Still it was too late to change our plans."

"True," Harry said with a shrug. "It's not as if you could have planned for my arrival after all. My travel plans were not exactly under my control, let alone anyone else's."

Thorin chuckled again at the dark joke, and the two of them stopped, raising their hands towards the two guards. "I think they are called Bounders…" Thorin said slowly out of the corner of his mouth. "You should do the talking."

Blinking Harry looked at him and Thorin shrugged. "There are some of these smallfolk among humans in Bree and a few dwarves too, but not many. They will be friendlier to you I think."

"What about your companions?"

"They will of coming in from other directions, or overland entirely. I doubt the Bounders will have noticed them, and once we are leaving they will not care how we got in in the first place if they even notice us then." Thorin shrugged.

Harry nodded, and took a step forward, holding up his hands peaceably. "Good evening friends," he said, bowing politely. "Tell me, are we allowed to enter your nation peaceably at this time of the evening, or must we wait someplace else and enter at a specific time?"

His equable tone and manners disarmed the two Bounders despite their shock at seeing one of the big folk and a dwarf traveling together. "You can enter whenever you wish strangers, we don't turn away any save those who look disreputable, and while you to look hard trod, you don't look that bad off." said one of them.

 _oh if you only knew._ Harry thought with an internal laugh, his lips twitching. "I'll thank you for that faint praise," he said instead, touching his forelock respectfully as he had read about in a few fantasy novels. "And then will be on our way."

"Wait" said the other one, looking between the two travelers officiously. "Are you just passing through the Shire or are you here for some purpose?" He looked at his companion shrugged his shoulders. "You know at least the Master of the Hall will want to know, and maybe the Old Took as well."

The other Bounder nodded, though the names meant nothing to Harry and Thorin. Still Harry answered readily enough, gesturing out past the road to a few distant farms, heavy and redolent with food. "We won't be here for long, we are here in fact to meet a few of our friends, and I personally would like to look at some of the farmland around here, you short folk seem to have away with soil that is frankly amazing to me."

The two hobbits smiled complacently at that, nodding their heads to one another. "Aye, it's the rare human indeed who can match a hobbit when it comes to working with the earth. Come in then, but be on your best behavior aye?"

Harry nodded, even though Thorin bristled slightly at the idea that these two could stop him if he wanted to behave badly. He wasn't going to of course, but their lack of manners sat ill with him.

The two went on their way, though Thorin had to wonder at how often Harry stopped to ask questions of the various farmers. There was something about the area that seemed to fascinate Harry, but what it was Thorin couldn't tell. He wasn't a farmer, so the amount of agriculture going on didn't interest him at all.

Though it seemed as if Harry wasn't getting any answers. More than one of the hobbits didn't even try to talk to him, turning away quickly and moving off, leery of strangers. Others simply laughed, and Thorin heard more than one state "the big folk and the dwarf wanted to know that, it's no secret, but not something you'll be able to do!" Before going on their way still laughing.

For his part down, Thorin also had some issues with the area, though is came from its inhabitants rather than their doings. This was the first time he'd met any hobbits, and he was surprised at the impact of them, not the men so much as the maidens. They were all short, very well-formed, with wide, happy faces, their eyes of citrine, agate or tourmaline or lazuli, their hair curly, like spun gold or bronze.

"Shame they have no beards," he thought, not realizing he had said that aloud as the two made their way forward through a area where there were no hobbits at the present moment.

 _Beards?_ Harry thought, then shook his head deciding he didn't want to know. "A very odd place to meet these companions of yours Thorin," he said instead, shaking his head as the two of them continued on their way.

"I told you the Wizard chose it, and wizards are all odd in various ways," Thorin replied drolly looking up at his taller companion who laughed, shaking his head as they continued on their way astounding any who met them by the sheer oddity of seeing a human and a dwarf together like that.

Harry kept on looking around, feeling this place out. Something was in the air here, not so much magical potential but simple… goodness? It was hard to describe more than that. it was magical in a way, sort of giving off a feel like Hogwarts in type though not in style. It wasn't magic of an individual, but of a place.

They passed through several more small hamlets with Thorin stopping occasionally to stare at a doorway or door before moving on. When Harry asked what he was looking for Thorin replied that Thrakun would have marked the house they were supposed to meet in, the one where the thief lived. More than once, they came they walked past a tavern, the sound of merriment and laughter inside making Harry smile and Thorin shake his head. Despite his own good mood, the levity in the atmosphere here was a little much for him.

This got worse as two maidens came out of a tavern, leaning on one another and moving down the road towards home. They stopped and stared at Thorin, and Harry, mesmerized by Harry's emerald eyes for a moment as he walked past, touching his forelock respectfully to them as Thorin did the same. But it was Thorin who grabbed their attention, his dark looks and long hair, his taller than normal build appealing to them greatly, and they began to whisper excitedly to one another before moving away quickly giggling.

Harry paused, shaking his head, resolutely not turning around to look at the hobbit maidens. "All right, I'm not even going to comment on that one." Thorin looked at him and Harry shrugged. "Farm folk tend to be very earthy, and the two ladies back there were no exception. Do you want to know what they were would be willing to do with you?"

Thorin's ears flushed slightly, and he turned away quickly. "Not at all thank you," he said quickly. "I know other races do things differently but even so such things should be kept private, between a dam and her chosen."

At that Harry laughed, and he was still laughing as they finally found the door that they were searching for. A moment later however Thorin turned the tables on him. "Oh, and if those twins you mentioned made such comments about you would you have acted any differently than I?"

 **OOOOOOO**

"He's here," said one dwarf to another, and Bilbo with a sigh of despair for a day gone horribly strange opened the door quickly, to stare at what was apparently supposed to be the last dwarf. Behind him the other dwarves had all gathered to watch their friend, their leader arrived, only to stare as Bilbo did at the site of Thorin laughing at something, which wasn't exactly normal in the best of times, but then there was his companion, a companion who Gandalf too stared at in amused shock. _The magic user here! Is that why the Valar sent that wait and see feeling towards me? Well thank you for that! Perhaps I can solve this minor mystery soon and without going out of my way to do so._

"Thorin," said Gandalf, walking forward, his head bowed low due to the ceiling. "Welcome!"

Thorin entered, looking up at tall Wizard smirking slightly at how he stooped he was forced to be at present. "Gandalf, I apologize for my lateness," he said looking at the wizard and then around at the others. "I had some trouble on the road, both before and after meeting my new companion here." He looked at a few dwarfs more seriously, his cousins Fili and Kil, and an Dwalin. "An orc raiding party was getting together to attack at hamlet on my way, and my friend and I decided we should do something about it before coming here. It took us a bit out of our way I'm sorry to say."

"Alone?" said one of the other dwarves shocked. "You two took on an entire band of goblins alone?"

"My friend has certain abilities that evened the balance." Thorin said with a chuckle, entering the house. "And you would be?" he looked at the lone hobbit standing amongst his brethren.

"Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins at your service and that of your family," he said respectfully, something about this dwarf demanded that sort of seriousness, which had faded after the first few dwarves arrived.

"Thorin Oakenshield," Thorin said nodding his head. He made no mention of service whatever.

"Harry Potter at your service and your family's. Harry said entering the house after him and bowing politely. "My people don't normally say at your service and your family's, but I suppose when in Rome or in this case the Shire..."

Even if he had no idea where Rome was the big folk's droll response caused Bilbo to actually chuckle, shaking his head. Then he suddenly felt something, and stepped aside, allowing the two humans to stare at one another as Thorin moved forward, clapping backs and shaking arms among his brethren.

Even as he did so though, more than one of the dwarves was looking past him at his companion, which Thorin supposed was to be expected. His old friend Balin pulled him into a close hug, as Thorin did the same, whispering into his king's ear. "A human Thorin, why are you traveling with one of them!?"

"That's a tale to tell, and one I think you'll all need to hear along with Gandalf. But he is an ally. For now, take a look at the sword he's wearing."

The older dwarf did so, his eyes widening as he realized that the sword in question was of incredibly good make. Dwarven at least, possibly ancient elvish work. "I see," he said thoughtfully, looking at his king once more before shrugging his shoulders. "I'll wait for the tale lad, but not overlong."

For their part, the two wizards were too busy staring at one another to notice this byplay.

Harry's first impression was that this old man was Dumbledore, only he wasn't, not when you took in the details. He had the same beard, the same look of age about him, but there the resemblance ended. This one was windswept, he wore his age lightly without any of the sense of gravitas Dumbledore liked to surround himself with. His beard was far less cared for, his body thinner but stronger seeming for that, and he wore dirty robes rather than gaudy robes. There was also a strength in Gandalf that Harry could feel, whereas Dumbledore went to great lengths to hide his own.

In turn Gandalf saw Harry, deeper perhaps than Harry would have been comfortable with. He noticed the young man was scarred heavily. His hands and forearms had several healed scars that looked like a cross between burn scars and claw marks. There was scar on his face too, and an older one, faded with age, on his forehead. His youth was also only a seeming, his stance, his scars, told of great hardship over time, and his green eyes spoke of great power and pain in equal measure. Gandalf saw a deep, if possibly recent sadness behind those eyes. His levity was a front, a well-practiced mask or perhaps a shield against that grief that the young man had yet to deal with.

"I warn you bearded one?" Harry said after a moment's contemplation of the older man. "If your eyes start to twinkle I will poke them out."

No, Gandalf decided as he chuckled best not to try to get the boy to admit to that pain just yet. Best to get to know him first, and to be known in turn. "The only time my eyes twinkle is when I am deep into my cups, and they don't twinkle so much as become glassy at times like that," he said with a chuckle. "I welcome you fellow wizard, we will have to have a talk later. But for now, sit eat and be merry!

The dwarves' reaction to Thorin showing up with the human was mixed to say the least. A few were looking at him distrustfully, a few in astonishment, and more than one speculatively given the nature of the sword that Thorin had pointed out to them. The two youngest however grinned, at the comment about eyes, moving forward to shake Harry's hand firmly, seeing in him a kindred spirit and unwilling to look into it deeper just then. Time enough for deep talks and thoughts after the eating and making merry as Gandalf put it.

Harry spent a few moments talking to Fili and Kili telling them a little bit about how he and their uncle had met up, but not too much. Thorin had said he wanted to get that introduction over with all at once, and Harry had to agree. It was much better that way then telling the same story over and over again. He also wasn't interested in being cornered by Gandalf just yet, though thankfully Gandalf seemed to have sensed that and had moved on, joining the general merrymaking.

Instead, as Fili and Kili rushed to the table, Harry concentrated on their host, who looked rather harried. "Might I help Mr. Baggins?" he asked, quickly moving to help the little fellow with a cheese that came up to his waist. As he did, he examined the hobbit closely, not seeing anything to make him stand out amongst his fellows except possibly more intelligence in his face, though Harry knew he wasn't exactly the best at spotting that kind of thing. He was fit certainly, not like a lot of other hobbits they'd seen today, but he wasn't the only one to be that either. _What about you grabbed Gandalf's attention enough for him to make the Shire the place you all are meeting?_

"Oh, thank you Mr. Potter." Bilbo said, smiling. "I must say I approve of your name, it certainly makes more sense than most of the names I've heard from the big people."

"I wish I could tell you there was a story behind it," Harry said as the two maneuvered the cheese over to where a few of the other dwarves quickly grabbed it, slamming it onto the table and slicing into it quickly. The dwarves were all eating as if they had been fasting for weeks, at least Harry hoped this was the case. It they ate like this every day that was a horrifying thought. "But apparently my family really were just potters at one point, rich ones admittedly, but nothing major. We were very good however at managing our money and my anscestors made it grow over time."

"Sound practice," said one of the other dwarves nearby, one of the fatter ones, if not the fattest. "You would not believe how many people forget or choose to ignore the fact they should leave something to the descendents!"

Harry shook his head. "They left me a legacy true enough, but I would've traded that legacy for actually having my parents around in the first place." He shook his head before anyone could ask a question about that, turning back to Bilbo. "But later for that kind of discussion. I actually had a question for you Mr. Baggins."

"Certainly," said the hobbit, seemingly somewhat overwhelmed that this tall human was taking an interest in him beyond simply gorging Bag End out of food and wine.

"As Thorin and I were traveling through the Shire, I was amazed by the amount of green growing things there are in here." Harry gave a small half shrug. "I understand there is a monstrous forest to one side, and that is bright green and growing, but it's not exactly tilled land is it? Trees can grow in sometimes grow where nothing else can. And the rest of the land outside of that forest seems almost dead, not land that could be turned into such amazing farmland as you have here."

Harry had noticed that even traveling throughBree, the largest group of settlements they had passed through. There were a few farms there and if Harry had time to explore he might've found a few farms there whose verdant green fertility could match the farms in the Shire, but he hadn't.

"Yes, I can see where a big person might be intrigued by that, but there's no real secret behind it." Bilbo laughed. "Or at least that is what most of my fellows think. We don't like unnatural things we cannot see and touch, and most of us have forgotten our origins."

Harry cocked an eyebrow inquisitively gesturing the hobbit to go on. Bilbo puffed himself up slightly, fisting his hands in the front of his lapels and leaning back against the wall behind him. "My father and my father's father before him going generations back always thought that knowledge of where we came from and who we worshipped should be passed on, even though the worshiping part has fallen by the wayside. We hobbits are followers of the Yavanna you see."

Not understanding the importance of that Harry kept a confused expression off his face with difficulty, but he still gestured Bilbo to go on. "Yavanna is the lady of the trees, of growing things. It is from Yavanna which all things which grow, from the trees to the grass come in the time of the Spring of Arda, though of course that was ages before my own people came to be. But through Yavanna's power, growing things can remove the taint of things."

Bilbo shrugged his shoulders, his voice, which had seemed to have an odd power to it when he spoke of Yavanna, returning to normal. "We can purge the taint from things, make the land grow bright and green again. That is what we have done here, this land used to be dead land created during the wars against Angmar. But hundreds of years of work has gone into the Shire over time to make it the way it is. My great, great, great, great, grandfather could've told you stories about how the lands were in his father's times, and it was just as vile then as the area outside the Shire is now."

Throughout this explanation Gandalf had coasted over into hearing range, and his eyes widened before a smile of pure delight showed on his face. Chuckling quietly he turned away, and Harry frowned after him. _He didn't know? Or did he suspect and had yet to hear it from Bilbo? Strange that. As is this talk of Valar that Thorin told me, though he never mentioned Yavanna. Gods, demi-gods and goddesses_

"Harry." Thorin shouted, "come here."

"Well Mr. Baggins, I suggest we get some of our food, before these ravenous dwarves eat it all. Honestly," he shouted, looking at some of the youngsters and in particular the fat one, Bombur he thought the name was. "You all are acting like a crop of locusts!"

There was some good-natured laughter at that, while Kili jokingly made buzzing noises until his brother smacked him upside the head.

Bilbo scooted into a corner after grabbing a plate of food while Gandalf scrunched himself into another corner. Harry sat between Thorin and Fili as Thorin gestured him into the seat. One or two of the dwarves looked askance at that, but didn't speak up, and the talking and laughter continued. Harry joined in wholeheartedly, talking with Fili, Kili and Bilbo in particular.

From the two brothers, he learned more about their people, about their family, and what their life had been like since Erebor. He learned their mother was named Dis, and, through subtle questioning, the fact that women barely made up a third of the dwarves' total population. This made them precious and thus they were rarely seen outside their homes. The three of them talked about pranks for a while until Thorin interjected, looking both pained and fearful. He drew Fili into a conversation of his own, while Dwalin did the same with Kili.

He learned much the same from Bilbo, though in his case Harry tried to draw him out about himself and his family. The Baggins were related to the Tooks and Brandybucks, the two largest and most important families in the Shire. For the most part the Baggins had been known to be sensible sorts, except in their knowledge of old things and languages though Belladonna, Bilbo's mother, had been known as a wild thing. And Bilbo too had gone through a few 'wild patches' in his life.

He had traveled the length of the Shire and even into the Old Forest several times. He had met elves traveling to the White Harbor (something which needed some explanation for Harry) and had traded tales with them and had at one point thought to join the Bounders. That was all in the past of course, since his mother's death Bilbo had settled down dramatically, taking over Bag End, the magnificent dwelling his father had built over his lifetime, tending to his garden with the help of a poorer family of farmers nearby, the Gamgee's.

After several hours of merry making and general banter it became time for serious discussions. Thorin began the talk by saying his cousin Dain, lord of the Iron Hills, was not willing to help them. He had his own people to look after, and while he would be willing to send military aid after the expedition succeeded, he was not willing to attempt the Smaug even if he had not been seen for over decades now.

Harry listened intently as all the others talked, frowning thoughtfully at the key that Gandalf gave Thorin. The map was also interesting. The idea of hidden runes or even doors was not foreign to Harry, though the idea of seeing a keyhole from a certain type of light was something that would tie into astrology more than he personally liked.

"And what if Smaug is alive?" said one of them. "We need a thief to get in and figure that out, but what if it is alive? Then this really will be a fool's errand."

"Not exactly…" Thorin said. "I think it has become time now to speak of Harry. "Harry, if you would place your sword on the table."

Harry nodded standing up but pausing before he reached for his sword. "I'll warn you all to not touch the blade. It is heavily poisoned, so poisoned that even a scratch will kill you horribly."

"Poison?" said one of the dwarves the bald one whose name was Dwalin if Harry was remembering it correctly. Harry hadn't gotten all of their names. "That's the weapon of a coward!"

There were some rumblings of agreement at that, but Thorin thumped the table with a heavy palm, causing the cutlery to jump. "It is only a coward's tactic if in all other ways you are equal with your enemy or even within spitting distance! Smaug has crushed armies, broke our people in a single day! How dare you say it is dishonorable to use any weapon we can against such a monstrosity! The only dishonorable thing would be to not strive with our utmost, to use any weapon we can!"

Dwalin looked away at that, nodding his head in submission and the muttering subsided.

After the noise had subsided Harry waited patiently until Thorin nodded to him again, then pulled out the blade, laying it on the table as he began his tale. "My name is Harry Potter, as I have already said. But what Thorin I did not want to speak of before this was that I am not of this world. And by that I do not mean I come from across the city from the West."

He looked around but to his surprise none of the dwarves interrupted again, though he could see Gandalf and surprisingly Bilbo seeming to burst with curiosity. _Huh, so there might be more to Bilbo than meets the eye even beyond his being a hobbit and having this power against dark things._

Looking at Gandalf directly, Harry went on. "I come from an entirely different world. The geography is different, the people are different, even the oceans are different. As far as I know in my world, the dwarves have retreated entirely, closing their mountains to anyone but themselves. On the other hand my own people, magic users that is, have become insular to the point of stupidity. I won't go into it all, but suffice to say I was in a battle with a local dark lord, not as you would understand term I think, rather one of these Wraiths of the last war that I've heard of from Thorin. We fell through a magical construct, and found ourselves in between worlds for a time, only to come out here. I have various abilities skills in magic that this world seemingly doesn't have."

Harry gestured, conjuring up a soft fluffy chair for himself and sat down in it to the gasps of astonishment and shock of all concerned.

"We really will have to have a talk young man" Gandalf said thoughtfully staring at the younger man. But he wasn't going to break his flow for now.

"This is but one example, Thorin can tell you of a few others which I used during our battles against the orcs." Harry said as he stood up again. Another wave of his hand made the chair scoot backwards towards Bilbo, who sat in it quickly with a nod of thanks at the human. Bilbo hadn't actually been able to sit at the table, there were too many people there, and he was too self-effacing to force his way up to the table against these wild looking dwarves.

At this point Harry slowly brought out his sword, making sure that none of the other dwarves were close enough for him to accidentally hit. He laid it on the table, and the oldest dwarf, Balin, leaned forward intently, examining the work closely, pulling on a pair of gloves to move the blade this way to catch the light better. "It's somewhat crude for Elvin work, but it's better than any human could've made it save perhaps the Numenorians, and it's not a style dwarves would make. It looks almost like a collaboration effort between a dwarf and elf mad for a human, but that's impossible."

"Impossible here certainly," Gandalf said sadly. "At least in this time of ill content. Yet perhaps eventually…"

"I'm not going to be drawn on that one," Harry said, shaking his head at Thorin who huffed but subsided, a small smile appearing under his beard as Harry went on. "Though given the fact the elves of Mirkwood turned aside the dwarves of Erebor when they needed help I can't see it happening any time soon."

"Alas, elves have long memories for good or ill, and Thranduil is not the most forward thinking soul. Still it would be best to not take his example as a measure of all elves."

"In any event," Harry went on nodding to the old man before continuing understanding what he meant but not willing to go into a discussion about that kind of thing at the moment. "This sword is one of the deadlier weapons in my world, and that was before I used it to kill a basilisk, where it absorbed the beast's venom."

"What's one of those then?" said one of the dwarves suspiciously, a scrawny sort of fellow who looked almost unkempt in comparison to the other dwarves. He and a few others had backed away from the table slightly, though most of them hadn't.

"A giant serpent…. About…" Harry thought for a moment. "It was as wide as this house I suppose, and about as tall, and in terms of length I would guess from here to that inn we passed earlier today Thorin."

Thorin simply nodded, while most of the other dwarves simply gasped. But Harry went on before any could speak, looking again at Gandalf. "It had eyes which could petrify, turn its victims into stone, and poison that could literally kill anything in our world. Luckily basilisks were very, very rare due to how complicated their birth process was. The one I killed was thousands of years old, and it's poison had only gotten even more deadly in that time."

Gandalf eyes narrowed suddenly. "Exactly how old were you when you face this basilisk, and under what circumstances?"

"I was 12 at the time. It was terrorizing the school I was staying in, and no one else seemed able to find the beast, let alone face it." Harry said with a shrug. Then his eyes hardened. "Besides, the thing hurt Hermione." A second after he said the name his face seemed to crumple for a split second before returning to its normal almost carefree expression.

His age at the time of his fight against the basilisk caused many a gasp among the dwarves. Why achild that age would be barely allowed out of his house, let alone allowed to train in the arts of war! Even Bilbo looked horrified at the very idea of a young boy that age in a fight of any sort.

The only one who had noticed Harry's expression change before he mentioned this 'Hermione' was Balin, who cocked his head thoughtfully, staring at the young human through his wire rim glasses. That sounded almost like a dwarf would speak of someone having hurt his One. He also saw the human's face crumple after saying the name, and a horrible suspicion welled up inside him. _Oh dear…_

Thorin alone appeared unmoved, though he too was somewhat shocked, not having heard how young Harry had been at the time. But Gandalf's eyes blazed, the shadows behind him seeming to move and twitch as his body appeared to expand with his sudden fury. " **How** exactly did that creature come to be in a school, and where were your teachers!?"

"A discussion for another time," Thorin interjected smoothly. "Gandalf, do you think poison could kill the dragon?"

Gathering his self-control Gandalf shook his head, seeming to shrink back to his normal size. "I **will** be coming back to that question again young Harry. But as to your question Thorin, I would've said before this that no mortal poison could slay a dragon. Yet this basilisk, it reminds me of a creature from the age of Wrath created by Melchor. It was killed by Tulkas before his battle against Melchor."

"Are you willing to sell the sword then?" said one of the dwarves, squeaking backwards as Harry glared at him, those emerald eyes could contain quite a bit of venom if they wanted to.

But Thorin spoke up before Harry could. "No, he has agreed to aid us for friendships sake alone."

There was some murmuring about that, with the youngest dwarves smiling at Harry, but the oldest shook their heads. "I gave my word, and Thorin helped me tremendously upon my arrival," he said mildly, holding out his heavily scarred hands. "I would've died without his aid then and there, and he has helped me since, teaching me the local language, helping me get my feet under me. He's also agreed to give me sword lessons, which apparently I desperately need," he added dryly.

Thorin chuckled, slapping Harry on the shoulder and more than one dwarf was struck by the strange, camaraderie between the two of them. Thorin had never been known to be so friendly to anybody beside family, his two youngest cousins in particular, but somehow this human had gotten under his defenses.

That assuaged most of them, but Balin shook his head, putting aside his worries about Harry's past for now. "I understand what you're saying laddie, but the greed of man and dwarf can sometimes rear its head in unexpected circumstances. And many a man, aye and dwarf has been turned by gold."

"At home, I had a cavern about as big as this house filled with gold coins, so many I didn't bother counting and I could have cared less about them. They were simply there to let me buy things if I needed to, which I rarely did. Friendship mattered more to me than gold, as I didn't have any of it for the first 11 years of my life," Harry said his voice still mild, but his emerald eyes were noticeably harder.

"I understand that, and if it's friendship you've once, you have here aplenty." Balin shook his head as Fili and Kili led the others in a chorus of cheers, even Bilbo getting in on it. "But for this lad, for this! You'd have the thanks of an entire dwarven kingdom for your entire life and that of your children and your children's children! Yet still I'd be safer in my head if we had it in writing. This just the way of our people you have to understand. Our contracts are our bond."

"So you're not doubting my friendship or my word, just wanting a permanent sign of it?" Harry asked, frowning but eventually he nodded. "I'll agreed to that I suppose."

"In which case," Balin said, turning to Gandalf and Bilbo. "It becomes time for us to also talk about the agreements for the thief that you have brought us here to meet Thrakun."

"Thief?" Bilbo said, squeaking from within Harry's conjured chair. "Me?"

"I would've called you a scout myself," Harry said. "Tell me Bilbo, when you were on your long walkabouts, did you ever sneak up on people?"

"Well of course, every young hobbit does that! Although," Bilbo said puffing himself up slightly "I'll admit that I took it a step further. I was able to sneak up on other hobbits! You big people and you dwarves, all if you stamp around in your overgrown feet and those boots of yours, too noisy by far."

"Scout then," the old dwarf said nodding amicably. "Although, will your scouting abilities transfer to the inside of a cavern?"

"Exactly what would you be asking me to do?" Bilbo said cautiously, wondering where the heck this was all going, but with Harry's eyes on him Bilbo felt a bit of the courage that his family had been known for. Talking to the human and explaining about his walkabouts and adventures had lit a fire in him somehow. "And what is this talk of dragons anyway?"

Thorin sighed sadly, shaking his head and motioning one of the other dwarves to talk.

"And you," Bilbo exclaimed after Bofur and Bombur finished, "and you expect me to try to, to sneak up on something like that!?"

"It might not even be alive at this point, it's been decades since he was seen after all." One of the other dwarves said. "Harry's sword is just going to be insurance."

"I'm noting that the official wizard among us is not talking right now. Gandalf?" Harry said mildly.

Gandalf frowned, looking at Harry but nodding his head. "It's highly unlikely that a dragon of Smaug's power would simply die of old age. It could've caused a cave-in of some kind and been trapped and starved, but even that would take years. It is my **hope** that the Dragon is dead, but…"

Harry nodded. "My people have a saying. Hope in one hand, shit in another see which one fills up first."

That garnered a moment of cacophonous laughter from the dwarves, who slapped their knees or the table in delight at the pithy phrase. Bilbo looked mildly affronted, and also still quite scared. "I…no, just no this is beyond me! I'll hold my hand up and say I'd be fine with helping you move through terrain, scouting ahead of you in that kind of fashion for a time, but going into that, into a cavern where I Dragon could be, no!"

Gandalf's eyes had narrowed speculatively, Bilbo's even slight courage after so long in a sedentary life surprised him, and he wondered how much of it was Bilbo himself, or the charismatic Harry Potter. _Harry seems to be able to draw out people, why look at what he had done with Thorin!_

"Consider what else you might be needed for Bilbo," Harry said, leaning back in his chair and looking over at all of the people were beginning to fill up with tobacco. "I never got into that habit before," he said thoughtfully changing the subject as he stared at them. "I might need to at this point. Every Wizard should have a vice of some kind I suppose."

Gandalf chuckled at that, shaking his head. "I'll buy you a pipe before we leave my lad, and you can try some of my own pipe weed. It's not for everyone though I'll warn you."

"Well it's either that or dwarven mead, which I was promised at one point I think Thorin." Harry said, cocking an eyebrow at the dwarf, who sighed and gestured to Gloin.

"Heh, here you go laddie, down a dram of that," Gloin said, passing a small flagon over to Harry, who took it with a bow of thanks.

Before he drank from it however Harry turned back to Bilbo, who was still wringing his hands and shaking slightly in his chair. "Mr. Baggins, I was never given the opportunity to say no to any of the adventures I've been on in my life, and I fully understand why this is a daunting concept. But consider this: Adventures like this, they come along once in a lifetime, once in every four lifetimes perhaps. And it is not for gold you journey, nor for friendship either in your case. Rather it is the adventure itself, seeing the world beyond the walls of the Shire. You said that you were eager at one point to do so, you almost joined the Bounders to do that righ? You've been into the Old Forest a time or two you said."

"Well yes, but that's a vast difference from trying to sneak through dwarven halls on a dragon!" Bilbo replied, although he was no longer shaking.

"You will have help," Harry said mildly. "I have spells that can help you sneak around, that can hide you in plain sight even, and you'll have training along the way. Not just in scouting but in sword play."

Thorin groaned slightly to himself but nodded slowly. Harry for some reason wanted Bilbo along, as did Gandalf. If two wizards agreed on something, he was willing to go along with it. Bilbo frowned looking up at Harry and then over at Gandalf who seemingly had chosen him for this reason. If they see something in me that I myself cannot see, who is in the right? "I, I will think about it. Can I have this agreement and look it over for the night?"

"Aye lad, it's not a decision that anyone should make quickly I understand," Balin replied, patting Bilbo on the shoulder.

As the other dwarves began to clean up, moving chairs out of the dining hall and into the room with a fireplace, Thorin and Gandalf moved to the doorway, staring out into the night outside contemplatively for a moment before Harry joined them. "Both of you believe Bilbo's aid is seemingly important for reasons beyond what he himself knows. A scout aye, that I can see and would even agree with if not for Harry's abilities in that area."

"Abilities which make a splash for senses to feel them," Gandalf said, looking over at as Harry joined them. "A splash that can be sensed well beyond line of sight."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You've been feeling the magic I've been doing?"

"Oh yes, indeed it was rather interesting. I thought at first that one of my own order had imbibed in something of a hallucinogenic nature, or run into trouble. I wanted to hunt you down, but I felt it incumbent to wait and see."

Harry's eyes remained narrowed, catching something in the way that Gandalf said that. After a moment though he shrugged, looking away. "I'll remember that. You think Smaug would be able to sense my magic?"

"Possibly not through stone, but once we are within the caverns yes." Gandalf said with a nod.

"I'll remember that too, bugger," Harry said shaking his head.

At that point Thorin took control of the discussion once more. "But I cannot see what you see in Bilbo that makes him so important once we get there."

"It is the nature of hobbits, isn't it?" Harry asked looking at Gandalf.

"Yes, I had not known that, and I thought I knew everything there was to know about hobbit-kind, more fool I for that. I had been guided almost, by my own thoughts and feelings to believe that Bilbo was important somehow, but if Hobbits do look to Yavana, that makes a lot of sense."

Gandalf turned to Thorin. "Dragons leave a taint behind you see, a madness in the gold they touch, in the places they live. Bilbo might be able to better combat that than any of us, and might even be able to help cleanse it."

Thorin thought about this, wondering if this was a barb sent his way because of the fact his family had been known to fall into gold madness, but decided not to broach the subject. He vowed once again to himself that he would not fall into the same madness his grandfather Thror had, before the fall of Erebor, he would not!

"If he comes, very well. I'll help train him, or I'll get one of the youngsters to do it. Both of them are actually quite good swordsmen in their own rights, and quite a bit more patient than I. But I will not be responsible for his fate. He will be a contributing member of the company, not baggage to be used only when needed. He will have to pull its own weight understood?"

"Of course," Gandalf said mildly, and Thorin moved inside.

Harry waited a moment, then looked at Gandalf thoughtfully. "We will have to talk later," he said, and Gandalf nodded equably and the two men followed Thorin back inside, joining the other dwarves in the room with the fireplace.

Thorin pulled out a small pipe of his own, lighting it and puffing at it for a few moments as he stood in front of the fireplace, his back to the others. Then he did what the one thing Harry would never have expected from the dwarf. He began to sing, in a remarkably good deep bass. **{Song taken from the** _ **Hobbit**_ **, by J.R.R. Tolkien}** "Far over the misty mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old we must away ere break of day, to seek the pale enchanted gold. The dwarves of yore made mighty spells while hammers fell like ringing bells, in places deep, where dark things sleep, In hollow halls beneath the fells."

One hand coming up to scratch at his chin Harry frowned, hearing something in Thorin's voice. There was pride there, longing of course, but also something more than that, more than grief too. Whatever it was, he saw it in the dwarves' faces all around them. _Purpose born in loss perhaps?_ Harry actually had to hold back a shudder, hearing the amount of loss in the dwarves' voices.

"For ancient king and elvish lord there many a gleaming golden hoard, they shaped and wrought and light they caught to hide in gems on hilt of sword. On silver necklaces they strung the flowering stars, on crowns they hung the dragon-fire. In twisted wire, they meshed the light of moon and sun. Far over the misty mountains cold to dungeons deep and caverns old we must away, ere break of day, to claim our long-forgotten gold."

Dwalin had joined in on that refrain, as had Bofur and Bifur, and one of the others whose name Harry hadn't caught. He realized now that the dwarfish pride in things they made went far beyond what most humans could conceive.

"Goblets they carved there for themselves, and harps of gold; where no man delves there lay they long, and many a song was sung unheard by men or elves." On that line Balin and the last two dwarves joined in, Oin and Ori. Ori, Thorin had explained at one point, had a wish to be a bard. Oin was a healer of some repute among their people.

And then something changed, the pain in the dwarves voices came to the fore as they went into the next refrain, with every dwarf now on their feet, staring at Thorin and the fire he stood beside. "The pines were roaring on the height, the winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread, the trees like torches blazed with light. The bells were ringing in the dale and men they looked up with faces pale. The dragon's ire more fierce than fire laid low their towers and houses frail.

"The mountain smoked beneath the moon; the dwarves they heard the tramp of doom. They fled their hall to dying fall, beneath his feet, beneath the moon. Far over the misty mountains grim, to dungeons deep and caverns dim. We must away, ere break of day, to win our harps and gold from him!"

 **OOOOOOO**

Later that night as the dwarves went to bed in various places around Bag End Gandalf and Harry moved out to the small bench beside the little green door set in the small hill, staring up into the nighttime sky. They sat there for a few moments silently, wondering how to begin.

"Different stars," Harry said thoughtfully, staring up into the clear sky. "I was never the best at astrology, but even I know that none of these stars have ever graced the nighttime sky of my own home."

"And do you wish to return there?" Gandalkf asked softly.

Harry flinched, the memory of Hermione's dead body, his wounded or killed friends, and what he would face there even with Riddle gone, even with his friends there. "No," he said eventually. "No I don't think so."

Gandalf looked at the young man thoughtfully. There was more than a simple statement there there was grief as well, **deep** grief. Harry had obviously lost a loved one recently, and wasn't over it at all despite his ability to act and almost seem merry at times. Slowly, he held out his pipe Harry. "You were able to conjure a chair earlier could you make one of these for yourself?"

Harry nodded taking the pipe respectfully, looking it over for a moment, noting how the end looked in particular, which he'd never actually seen before. Then he conjured his own, comparing the two before handing them back.

Solemnly Gandalf filled both pipes with tobacco, holding the conjured pipe out to Harry. "You'll want to breathe in a little bit at first, then breathe out. Don't suck all of the fumes in at once, just breathe in a bit at a time," he began, instructing Harry on how to smoke a pipe. "Pipe weed makes things easier to speak of," he said laying his head back against the outer wall of Bag End, his legs splayed out in front of him.

Harry nodded, leaning back thoughtfully. "So, I suppose given the fact that you're the local here I should start?" he asked after a moment, having coughed only once on the pipe weed, before getting into the rhythm. It was mildly nice he supposed, but not a habit he was going to take up long-term. The dwarven mead though, that was excellent, and Harry realized he would have a lot of trouble keeping himself from becoming an alcoholic if he had access to that every day.

"If you will lad, beauty before age and all that. Though I think we're going to be out here all night. I have questions, but I am certain you have just as many." Gandalf said equably.

"You might say that yes," Harry replied dryly, then after another puff, he began to speak.

* * *

 **End Chapter**

This was the winner of the poll here on fanfic, though it lost over on P at R on. I said I would, as mentioned above, try to get this chapter out, and I did! I could have gone on to describe the conversation between Harry and Gandalf but I honestly am uncertain how that will go, the tone of it and how in depth, IE, info-droppy, I want to make it. I also did not want to be bogged down in explanations or unimportant conversations. Harry's abilities and especially ability with his runes will be discussed while on the move, and Harry will in turn learn about dwarves and these fellows in particular as the tale continues in as natural a manner as I can contrive.

Anyway, the poll for April should be up within an hour or so of this chapter being posted. Remember to vote, but if you want more say in what I write, the best way is to go over to my P at R on page.


	3. Chapter 3

When factoring the votes over on Pee a Ron (heh, finding new ways of mentioning that site is kind of amusing now that I think about it) it was in the lead right up until I added in a few latecomers, so I had it mostly written anyway. The totals for the winner and the runner up were: 256 votes here on fanfic and 300 there,A Fate Touched in Middle Earth total, 556. Semblance of hope only took in 129 points here, but it racked in 460 points giving it a total of 589. This is easily the closest first and second place winners I've seen for month hence why I had this chapter prepared and ready to go. I will try to get Semblance of hope out with A Third Path but we'll see.

Regarding A Third Path: I have it mostly written bar a few world building moments and the initial scenes with Hela, Harry and Emma meeting in Niflheim and what occurs there. Those scenes are extremely important going forward, and I have a beta reader I have used in the past for all things Asgardian/Asatru related - a LOT of the stuff regarding the Althing was from him in the last chapter. As such I won't be putting the chapter out until we are both happy with those segments, and the, call it the feel of Hela's turmoil and the action going on. I hope to put it out by the end of the month, but refuse to make any promises.

This has been betaed by ultimaflare0.

Anyway, without further ado here is the next chapter of Fate Touched:

* * *

 **Chapter 3: A journey Begins and Hits a Pothole**

Snarling and growling filled the clearing around the former den of orcs and goblins, all of it coming from a force of short, wiry looking orcs on top of giant wolves, or wargs as they were known. There should have been a force of upwards of a hundred mixed goblins and orcs here, but instead the group of scouts and messengers found nothing.

Their leader was a head taller than any of the others, though just as wiry, wearing black iron armor with spikes and cruel hooks sticking out of it here and there. He stared at the ruins of the small cave system which had housed the small tribe of their fellows here, then around.

Kneeling down to examine the ground, the orc picked up a small trail leading away from the remains of a pyre. Moving quickly into the woods with his warg he forced the giant wolf's head down to the ground. An instant later it lifted its head and howled.

The orc smiled at that confirmation though he continued to look around, wondering. Their quarry had been a part of this, but how had at best only two people done all this? And why in the world had there been so many animal scents scattered around the clearing, but no trace of them out in the woods? Something odd had occurred here, and it made the orc's skin crawl.

Regardless, his war band had a task given to them by the White Orc himself, and they had at last picked up the trail of their quarry once more.

 **OOOOOOO**

Hours had gone past and Gandalf and Harry were sitting where they had been from the first, smoking on their pipes as they stared up into the starry sky. Gandalf had gone through his entire supply of pipe weed for a week in the space of a single night between them, though Harry had more often than not simply used his smoking to slow down the conversation than out of actual enjoyment.

"An entire school for learning magic, I can scarce believe that, let alone the rest of it. Though my mind keeps coming back to that single fact for some reason," Gandalf mused, smoking on the last few puffs worth of his current pipe full. "Yet your words have the ring of truth to them, and it would be even odder indeed if every world was like to Arda."

"And I can scarce believe that this world was entirely created by magical beings. Oh, we have our own creation myths but as far as I know there was never any evidence behind them, only belief." Harry waved a hand that held his own pipe at present, the smoke of curling and twisting into the dark sky.

Harry had no idea if this Eru Iluvatarhad also created his world, or the blackness between worlds where he and Tom had battled was this Void. Gandalf however was certain it was. He had taken the existence of another world in stride, far more in stride than he had taken the idea of an entire hidden society of magic users. That and the number of times the adults in Harry's world had stood back and let him handle the issues coming his way was utterly bizarre to him.

He was also certain that one of the Aratar, one of the eight greatest Valar, had opened the door to let Harry and his foe through. But he could not guess as to who had sensed them in the Void, let alone made the decision to let them through to this world. _Whoever it was took a heinous chance if so, but it seems to have succeeded. But there again, since Morgoth is also imprisoned within the Void, they might have decided to take the chance rather than to let him meet this Dark Lord of Harry's._

Gandalf's lips twisted into a snarl of fury that none of his friends would ever have thought he could show. Riddle himself had not awoken that fury, the same fury he had lost control of at one point to the detriment of a stretch Bilbo's garden. No, it had been Dumbledore and the others adults in Harry's life which had touched off Gandalf's ire.

Teachers who would not help their students were anathema to Gandalf, but it had been Dumbledore and his inaction which had infuriated Gandalf the Grey to the point where he lost control of his own magic. The very idea of someone who thought himself wise yet was willing to let others, let alone a child, pay the price for his own choices and decisions was simply evil in his mind.

"You're going to have to do something about that. Heh, reminds me how I once blew up my aunt once when she badmouthed my parents in front of me during my third year at Hogwarts. Blew up like a balloon she did, the Obliviators were busy that day." Harry said now, once more waving his conjured pipe, this time at the portion of Bilbo's garden which had been the inadvertent target of Gandalf's ire. The scars on his hands once more caught the eye, though not as much as what he gestured to.

A section of the garden about as wide as Gandalf was tall had been flattened by his magic. It looked as if a monstrous weight had suddenly descended onto the area, but from what Harry had been able to tell it had been some kind of wind attack. No word or gesture had accompanied that attack, and it had felt like a very low level spell in comparison to Gandalf's sheer aura of power at the time, but the effect was beyond Harry's expectations.

Looking away Gandalf puffed on his pipe again instead of replying. As primarily a follower of Manwe lord of the Sky and his wife Varda, most of Gandalf's powers came from lightning, air, with quite a bit of far seeing and speaking thrown in from Varda's teachings. "You make fun of it now Harry Potter, but your world, it seems as broken as mine own in many ways. In Arda the flaws were built in by Melkor and his attempts to manipulate the Ainulindalëwhich opened the door for the corruption of mortals of all sorts and the very earth beneath our feet."

The Quenya, or High Elven, name for the Song of Creation rolled off Gandalf's tongue, hanging in the air with an almost otherworldly note to it. Harry noted this, and wondered about that and about how Gandalf spoke about the events of the Ages, not as if he had seen them, but as if he had spoken to many who had. There was even more to Gandalf than his simply being a powerful wizard, or servant of the Secret Fire, as he put it, there was something buried beneath his physical body

"Whereas my world is broken as you put it by the inherent corruption and sheep-like tendency of wizards?" Harry asked, his smile disappearing despite his words, keeping his thoughts on Gandalf to himself.

Gandalf had seemed enthralled by Harry's tale of his world, just as Harry had about the history of this world and what magic was like here. Yet as the story continued Gandalf had become grimmer and grimmer, asking questions about the adults in Harry's life and their inaction, delving deeper than Harry had anticipated into his own motivations and the 'muggle world' too.

"You'll forgive me my young friend, but I think that your problems went far deeper than even the bigotry you and your… best friend noticed." Gandalf had paused before changing the words he used there at the end, and even so he noticed Harry twitch at the words.

 _Yes, there is grief there, a deep fissure in the youth's emotional strength that has yet to heal._ Gandalf wanted desperately to introduce Harry to Galadriel, feeling that she could help Harry heal far better than he or even Elrond would be able to. And Harry did need to be healed, less his fey attitude lead him to his doom.

"The problem is complacency," Gandalf said aloud, once more setting that thought aside. "Your wizarding society seemed to use magic for everything, relying on it to the point it became every day. And thus you lose the wonder, the delight of it. You stop striving to understand the world around you or the magic within it."

"Whereas here, not only is magic not an everyday thing, but you can feel magic all around you just out of sight if you have the ability to sense it at all." Harry mused. _No wonder the magic here is so prevalent but so weirdly wild._ Harry all too easily remembered how much it took out of him to try and couldn't control the wind, or transfigure the ground. The magics of Manwe ran through them as the power of the other Valar did through everything else. _Thus conjuration is far easier than transfiguration. Still runes will no doubt prove relatively easy._

On the other hand Harry had been just as horrified by the idea of Morgoth as Gandalf had been infuriated by his own tale of the adults in his life. Hearing about how he was purportedly a fallen demi-god from Thorin had been very different from speaking to Gandalf, who made that history come alive.

"And so this Great Shadow created whole races to be dark mirrors of other life. And created dragons too…" he said aloud, changing the subject somewhat. "Dragons who sound as like to the dragons of my world as lions are to cats." He chuckled wanly. "And then there is this Sauron, the lesser shadow as you put it."

"Yet all too effective," Gandalf nodded, looking at the younger man. The tales of Middle Earth were rarely joyful affairs due to Morgoth and his machinations. Sauron and his doings, while indeed lesser than his master's, were just as fell. "His voice and wit was just as much a weapon as his legions, and far more effective at times."

"How many people can feel magic? I'm not talking about manipulating it themselves, but feeling when magic is being used, you mentioned that earlier." Harry asked.

"All elves to a certain extent can feel magic in their vicinity, though the distance varies wildly from one group to another, and in this Age most elves would not particularly care to leave their forests or harbors to search out any new feeling on the wind. Some dwarves can, but only through their hands, through touch, and even then it is muted at best. Their rune carvers can do some manipulation along the lines of feeling out their runes. They didn't use pick and chisel you know, but their very fingers."

At Harry's incredulous look Gandalf chuckled. "Oh yes, I recall watching a few of them at work in the past, when dwarves were slightly more free with their secrets. I watched a rune-scribe at work in return for aiding his family with some healing, and it was magnificent to watch the power flowing as they worked it into the very stone. They wear copper covered gloves with pointed talons over their fingers to carve out the runes.

"Dwarves, like elves, are inherently magical to a certain extent and while they cannot use it like most elves, they can use that power to begin the process of powering runes. Then as they do so the power starts to glow along the rune's lines, like bright molten fire as the stone itself hums with the connection the dwarves have with it." Gandalf shook his head. "Ah, the wonders of the dwarven halls were said to rival the greatest of Elven works. Perhaps when all is said and done, Erebor will be so once again."

So saying Gandalf returned to Harry's question. "And older orcs can sense magic in the vicinity. Goblins cannot, but orcs; in particular orcs from Mordor can do so."

Gandalf cocked his head thoughtfully as he looked at the young man beside him The two of them had merely covered a sort of overview of one another's lives and worlds at this point. There were still questions to be asked, but that would have been true if they sat and talked for days rather than a single night. They had spoken enough however to get a feel for one another, especially in Gandalf's case to Harry. "So, it is my turn for a question my young friend. I think we have covered enough of the past for now, let us speak of the present and the future. You have agreed to aid Thorin and his company out of friendship's sake, and knowing now how important friendship is too you I do not doubt your word. But I have to ask, what will you do if we succeed? Will you try to return to your world, or would you be happy to stay here?"

"I…" Harry paused thinking as he turned away to look up at the nighttime sky, unwilling to give Gandalf a flippant answer, not when he looked at you with those deep, dark eyes of his. More effective than Dumbledore's twinkling for damned certain. "I do not think I would be happy there, too, too many memories." Harry's teeth clenched on the pipe in his mouth for a moment, and his emerald eyes darkened before Harry moved around the roiling emotions his own words had evoked.

Then the dark emotions were gone and Harry's emerald eyes sparkled with amusement. "Besides I've always been the adventurous sort, so this world and what it can represent interests me a lot."

Shaking his shaggy head Gandalf had to chuckle at that. "Young ones always should have a desire to see what is on the other side of the river, or beyond the next bend. That adventurous nature is the only way we can grow."

"Oooh wise words from the man in the grey cloak," Harry quipped. Looking at the ancient, and Gandalf was a hell of a lot older than he appeared, he had been open about that, wizard Harry wondered if he would get a straight answer on this one. "Why did you decide to come to the Shire searching for a thief, specifically Bilbo Baggins? You had no idea about the hobbit's ability to cleanse objects with their presences or work, so it had to be something else."

This was a test, Gandalf realized. Up to here they had been talking about generalities, the past and magic, nothing really to do with Gandalf's task, or his place in Thorin's company. Harry's friendship might be new, but it was genuine, and Harry wanted to make certain that Gandalf's decision to bring in Bilbo would truly add to the group's chance of success.

 _Then too, the boy has been lied to in the past, and used sorely,_ Gandalf thought, his hand clenching on his pipe for a moment as the wind picked up around them before he regained control of himself. _He no doubt dislikes half-truths and dissembling, and alas both my age and overall looks are still against me._

Gandalf suddenly had to bite back a chuckle wondering how Harry would get on with his friend Saruman. Wise and powerful and even personally courageous Saruman was, but he liked to keep his own council, was somewhat arrogant and at times spoke in half-truths, which Harry would detest. Keeping secrets about himself was fine, but not anything that could endanger Harry or his friends. _Oil and water, methinks._

"For one thing, Hobbits are very good at sneaking around." Gandalf began. "They downplay it, but they are very, **very** good at it. If a hobbit puts his minds to it he could climb a tree and not disturb a squirrel, as is said in the Shire. But more, I have always enjoyed my time with the little ones."

He paused, thinking and looking out over the darkened Shire, this land of little homes, farms and people which had once been dead, barren land. "I have watched them rise to the challenge before at times, and watching them so gives me courage, that such little people are able to face the task ahead of them. I could not tell you why I was so interested in them in the first place, I felt… drawn you might say."

Harry's eyes narrowed, but Gandalf merely blew out a smoke ring that looked like a ship for a moment then a bit of breeze blew it off over the night and out of sight. He could be open about much to a fellow wizard, but his true nature and his connection to Manwe and his wife were not things he could share with any mortal.

Before Harry could say anything he spoke again. "Or are you really asking me what I am doing aiding the dwarves at all in this quest?"

"That was part of my thinking yes. I think you're a good man Gandalf, but I also don't think you're involved in this quest for any reason that has to deal with the dwarves or friendship or Erebor." Harry's eyes locked on Gandalf's own for a moment. "Or are you simply worried about this Smaug, and what it could do?"

"The dragon is part of it." Gandalf drew in a breath then decided to open up to this young wizard, hoping not only to put Harry at ease, but perhaps to gain an ally in the greater struggle Gandalf could see coming even if no one else wished to. "I told you of why my Order was sent into Middle Earth. Part of that is to battle those who would use dark magics to their own ends. One such is a mortal wizard called the Necromancer, who has taken residence near Mirkwood in Dol Goldur. He has been gathering fell things to his service, and I fear what such a one could do if he could somehow convince Smaug to join him. Dragons are too powerful for any in this age to deal with easily, and whole nations could be burned by dragon fire before it could be felled."

"Ah. And you hope to find proof the dragon is dead, or deal with it before that happens." Harry nodded, understanding and happy that Gandalf was being so open with him. "Thank you for answering my questions Gandalf, it, it means a lot that you are open with me. But now I think it's your turn."

"Ahh then let us turn to happier things!" Gandalf exclaimed, beaming at Harry. "Tell me about these charms or yours. What can they do, and what of this Professor Flitwick, he sounded like a most interesting fellow."

The two of them continued to talk until the sun began to glimmer in the distance, speaking through the night of magic, of happy moments or places Gandalf had seen, and of pranks Harry had played or been a part of. It was a pleasant time for them both and neither could have said they noticed the passage of time at all until they began to hear birdsong and see the glimmering of sunlight on the horizon.

That sight brought to mind something Gandalf had been meaning to ask. "By the way, what did you mean by twinkling eyes? I assume it was in reference to some kind of spell or other?"

"I wouldn't put it past the man to use a spell for that purpose, but Dumbledore always had these twinkling eyes whenever he talked to me alone or was trying to get someone to see his point of view. You might say I've developed a phobia toward it, that, garish clothing and the term the greater good." Harry replied, yet again hiding his serious thoughts underneath humor.

"Bah, the greater good is made of the lesser goods all piled together. I will not say sacrifice is not necessary in the pursuit of victory over the dark, but I would be willing to sacrifice myself before asking anyone to do so beside me. I put my own welfare where my words are my young friend, as you will no doubt see at some point along our journey."

Harry looked at Gandalf for a long moment, then he simply nodded and they turned to stare out over the Shire as the sun continued to rise.

 **OOOOOOO**

Bilbo woke up at the crack of dawn, not something he was used to but his dreams had been disturbing to say the least. Dreams of blood, the clashing of steel on anvil, the crackling of fire and of dwarven voices raised in a lament of such loss that it would make a stone weep. Sighing Bilbo slipped out of bed, moving around Bag End with the ease of long practice, easily avoiding the dwarves. This was made all the easier by the fact several of them were snoring fit to wake the dead. _Good grief, bless me if that isn't the most horrifying symphony of the age._

Eventually he found his way to the kitchen where he discovered he wasn't the first up. Thorin and Balin were up already, sitting at the tiny kitchen table poring over a map and a list of some kind. Looking over their shoulders Bilbo noticed that the list seemed to be of different supplies, far too much to be carried even by so doughty a group as the dwarves. "You have ponies then I suppose?"

Both dwarves started, and Thorin half turned, his hand dropping to where his sword was presently propped up alongside the table before stopping scowling at the hobbit. "You have very soft feet Mr. Baggins."

"Indeed lad I'd have thought with these wooden floors sneaking up on someone would be impossible. I suppose Tharkun was right to think you a good scout and thief." Balin said, shaking his head, but his tone was noticeably more welcoming than the younger, far more intense dwarf.

"Yes, well, it helps that your fellows are snoring down Bag End at present. Nor do I think it would be that hard to sneak up on you even if you were ready for it. You dwarves and your large metal boots," Bilbo chuckled moving over to the sink to find all the dishes done. "Ah bless your friends for this." So saying he turned to look at the two dwarves, breathed in once then asked quickly, "So how long would you estimate I would be away?"

"You're really thinking of signing up with us Bilbo?" Balin asked his eyes wide behind the glasses he had been using to read the list of supplies.

"I, yes. Yes I am." Bilbo replied his voice uncertain but his eyes clear as he nodded.

Thorin frowned, pulling at his beard as he looked at the so-called burglar cum scout and possible… he wasn't certain what term to describe the last task Mr. Baggins might be suited for. He remembered what Bilbo had said hobbits could do about cleansing the taint of things, and Bilbo's ability to sneak around was obvious. He could possibly be an aid in many ways, if he wasn't as soft as Thorin feared looking at him.

But even so there was one question Thorin wanted answered. "Why? I can understand why we might need the help, but why do you wish to help us? I can tell by this hobbit hole that you are well off; you have no need of coin. Your wanderlust is long gone by your own words. So why agree to come with us, even knowing we will be journeying into danger?"

Bilbo stared back levelly, feeling courage welling up within him somehow now that he had finally voiced a decision he had made last night despite his words about needing to think about it. "That's right I am well off, and I love my home. I cannot imagine what it would be like to lose it, let alone through violence and death. But you don't have to imagine it, you saw it firsthand. You have no homes to go to, no Bag End, no Shire."

Still staring into Thorin's eyes Bilbo smiled. "But I will help you regain your home if I can. And I think, like Mr. Potter said, if this is the adventure of my lifetime, the only one to come to me then I will grasp it with both hands."

Returning the stare from the hobbit Thorin slowly nodded, holding out his hand and shaking Bilbo's hand once, respect in his face now rather than the disdain he had first shown Bilbo last night. He was still uncertain about the hobbit's physical mettle but was willing to give Baggins the benefit of the doubt now. "Do you know ought about weapons Mr. Baggins?"

"I will need training in swordsmanship, but I can get a good hobbit bow and quiver if I leave now." Bilbo grinned suddenly. "I was a dab shot at one point in my youth, until I nearly parted my father's hair with an arrow. That was the end of that alas."

The two dwarves chuckled at that image, and Bilbo went on. "I need to make certain someone watches Bag End for me in any event. I have rather… irksome relatives who might attempt to move in if I do not."

"Ahh." Thorin nodded, understanding that concept easily enough. He loved his sister and his nephews, and even his cousin Dain, but some of his more distant kin had made their disdain for their suddenly homeless relatives plain often enough that had they not been kin Thorin would have declared blood feud. As it was, Dain had made it clear neither group was welcome to come within a league of one another. "We will be leaving within the hour, but if you wish, you may catch us up on the main road out of the Shire."

"Let me sign up officially first then I'll change and be on my way." Bilbo replied, still smiling.

Balin quickly brought out the same contract as Bilbo had seen last night at that, smiling at the courage the little hobbit was showing, though internally questioning his choice just as much as Thorin. After asking a few questions about the wording and in particular the type of remuneration (jewels versus worked jewelry or gold coins) Bilbo signed his name under where Harry had done so the night before, formally joining the company.

Moments later Bilbo walked out of the door with a bag of clothing on his back, dropping it by the two wizards who looked up at him, eyebrows raised all around as they looked at him and he realized the two humans had been out here all night. "I signed," he said simply. "I need to go pick up something from the Thain's house however before we leave."

"Happy to have you Mr. Baggins," Harry said standing up and clapping the short hobbit on the shoulder as Gandalf beamed behind him.

A few moments later found Bilbo walking to the Westfarthing into the Tooklands and up to the Thain's house. Several farmers were already at work in their fields by this point, and more than one of the extended Took clan were out and about. Isumbras, the leader of the sprawling family was sitting out on his patio, talking firmly to a few of his younger relatives, who raced off as Bilbo walked up. "Well, a top of the morning to you kinsman," the older hobbit said, his voice gravelly his eyes shrewd. "And what brings a Baggins out and about this early. Or are you here as a Took instead?"

The Tooks, as had been seen in Bilbo's mother, always had a bit of wildness to them, a bit less common sense and more wanderlust. The Baggins had been known for generations as the most staid if learned of hobbits, and Bilbo's father had been no exception, though Belladonna his mother had more than made up for that. She had been a wild thing in her youth according to her surviving siblings, of which Isumbras was the oldest.

"Er, you might say I'm here as a Took sir. I am going to be going on a bit of an adventure. I was hoping to pick up the bow my mother bought me, and to ask you to have someone look after my home for me." Bilbo replied, touching his forelock respectfully.

Even today in this time of peace and plenty the Tooks and the Brandybucks were treated with respect by smaller families. The two clans were the most wild and willful of hobbits at times, so much so they were at times looked at askance by the rest of the Shire, but they were strong and sturdy and above all dependable. Their members made up a large portion of the bounders and few sheriffs, and the oldest male Took was the Thain, leader of the Shire in times of danger and the commander of its muster.

Isumbras looked at Bilbo for a moment, his eyes shrewd. "I saw my old friend Gandalf yesterday, had a thought something might be up. Glad to see you showin' a bit of Bella's fire. Let's head inside then, and I'll see if I can find that old bow. And you'll need to sign a contract for someone to watch your home."

That took some time, but eventually the two of them had written up a contract for the Tooks to watch over Bag End for two years. If Bilbo was gone for longer than that, the property would become Took property to do with as they may. The contract was witnessed by the mayor of the nearest town and Hamfast Gamgee, who would be retained to look over the garden at Bag End as he had been for years.

It might have been talking to Hamfast or it might have been the fact the sun was well into the sky, but as Bilbo was walking up to the entrance to Bag End, where the dwarves and the two humans were now all ready to be off, Bilbo could not help but notice what had happened to a portion of his garden. "Gandalf, whatever happens to my rose bushes? Or that poor tree? Or the grass around them!?"

 **OOOOOOO**

Passing through the Shire had been easy going of course, though Bilbo had a moment of laughter seeing Harry on a pony. The human might be somewhat short for his race, or rather but even so he was too tall to look right on a pony. Especially one bought in the Shire because none of the other dwarves had realized they would be adding two people to their company rather than one before his and Thorin's arrival.

For his part Harry had merely shrugged saying, "I've never been on a horse at all so while I imagine I look funny like this, I'd be a laugh out riot falling off a horse."

"Hmm, we might need to do something about that at some point my young friend." Gandalf murmured. "In this land you need to know how to use a horse or build up calluses on your feet enough to make even a Hobbit blush in envy."

As they left the Shire behind however, the sky darkened, and within a few leagues it began to rain. It was not a torrential downpour but a slow steady rain, the kind that was quite content to stay around all day. "Master wizards, can one of you do something about this rain?" Bilbo asked, now remembering why he had stopped wandering around the Shire so often.

"Alas no Mr. Baggins, no wizard can control the weather." Gandalf replied.

"I'd really rather not try to even keep the rain off us, not after how much it took me to even generate a breeze a few days ago." Harry said, shaking his head. "I have no desire to bring this Manwe's ire on me for attempting that again."

"A sign of wisdom from such a young man, it is enough to bring a smile to this weathered face of mine," Gandalf replied, and the two of them chuckled.

At that point Fili and Kili moved up the column to either side of Harry. They had enjoyed talking to him the day before, and wanted to talk to him more about pranks. They also wanted to know how he seemed to have gotten under their uncle's armor of anger and hauteur too.

Harry told them and the others listening, about the Marauders, the group his father had been a part of, as well as his friends George and Fred, going into detail on some of the pranks he had seen them play. Hearing this Kili replied by telling Harry about a time they had pranked their mother and father, and Fili told about their aborted attempts to prank Thorin when he stayed with them in the Blue Mountains.

Wincing at the memory Thorin turned in his saddle from where he was leading the party. "I realize I can't make you three stop your pranking but I'll have your agreement all three of you not to attempt anything that would lose someone sleep or slow our travel."

"Agreed," said Fili and Kili as one, while Harry merely nodded his head.

After that the ice was truly broken and the dwarves began to talk more freely amongst themselves and with their new travel companions. Bifur, Oin and Balin struck up a conversation with Bilbo, while Dwalin, Fili, Kili and Thorin talked with Gandalf and Harry about swordwork and combat magics. Gandalf was somewhat reticent beyond saying he was good with a sword and preferred to use as little magic as possible outside of light spells or lightning, while Harry was more eclectic and "I know my swordwork needs work."

That evening the company pulled off the road into a clear area around a tiny stream. Bilbo volunteered to scout around for game as the others set up camp, digging out a fire pit, warming water and setting up sentry posts. Coming back with two hares taken on the bow Bilbo found the dwarves had even laid out his bedroll, Bifur and Oin had taken control of the fire pit. He handed his rabbits over, jerking his head to the side to indicate where Dwalin was glaring daggers at Bombur.

Chuckling Oin explained. "Bombur's not allowed near the cooking fires until called, else none of the rest of us would get anything."

Nodding at that Bilbo sat down by the fire, stretching out his bare feet to the fire for a moment to see if they would warm up slightly. Hobbits never wore shoes, so their feet had to stand any amount of punishment both from the pounding of their steps and the weather. But that didn't mean Bilbo had to like how soaked and dirty they were at the moment.

Nearby Harry sat on a large rocky outcropping with Thorin as Gandalf, Dwalin and Balin stood in front of them. The two of them went into greater detail about the orcish camp the two had destroyed, including the lead up to that battle for the first time. "Azog, you sure he mentioned Azog by name lad?" Balin asked, staring at Thorin.

Thorin nodded grimly and the two brothers cursed volubly. "Curse his soul, how did Azog survive the war!?" Dwalin asked.

"You mentioned this Azog before, but war, what war?" Harry asked, looking between the three of them.

"We call it the War of Dwarves and Orcs, six years of bloody fighting from one underground stronghold to another in the Misty Mountains north to South." Balin said, shaking his head. "We shattered their power, but we couldn't wipe them out or retake our ancient halls of Khazad Dum, we simply didn't have the numbers at the time, and the last battle was a seesaw affair that ended in our favor by the slimmest margins."

Dwalin grunted. "If Azog survived he'll no doubt still be a powerful chieftain, and he'll be after you for taking his arm Thorin. We'll have to be on the lookout for orcs going forward."

"In that case, can we start training now? Every little bit helps after all." Harry asked standing up from the rock he'd been sitting on and taking out the sword of Gryffindor.

"Aye, that's the best thing we can do at this point. Be on the lookout and prepare," Thorin replied, moving over to his pack to pull out his own blade.

Sword practice with Thorin was a revelation for Harry, despite having been given some verbal instructions and critiques. Thorin was shorter than Harry, but he was almost as quick and massively strong. Each time Harry blocked or tried to redirect Thorin's blade the blow smashed him like a hammer, numbing Harry's hands and arms. Thorin disdained trying to explain sword styles or footwork, instead brutally pushing Harry as hard as he could, building up experience and body memory.

Eventually Fili and Kili turned from their own work around the camp to join the practice, both of them taking on Thorin when Thorin decided to get Dwalin to take his place. Dwalin learned quickly that Harry despite being a scrawny human was fast enough to make up for his lack of strength, and fought dirty too. Not that Dwalin had a problem with that. Indeed he thought it a good thing to see.

However Harry in turn learned something very important: dwarves had incredibly hard heads. At one point Harry had redirected one of Dwalin's paired axes, simple but incredibly well designed and balanced weapons,he called Grasper and Keeper, into the ground. The other came down, trying to cut at Harry, but he blocked it high before Dwalin could get too into the blow.

Knowing he couldn't keep the axe there for long against his opponent's greater strength and knowing the first axe was now free Harry then tried for a headbutt to gain some of the initiative. Dwalin had no chance to set himself but after their foreheads slammed together it was Harry who saw stars, falling to his rear. "Argh, wh, what the hell, since when did you have a helmet on?"

Dwalin bellowed in laughter as the nearby dwarves who had seen what occurred all chuckled at the human's misstep. "Let that teach ya Harry, **never** try to headbutt a dwarf!"

"Urgh… I feel like I just had a concussion. Mead's good for that right?" Harry asked, wobbling in place, to the laughter of the dwarves even as Balin refused to give the human any more of his precious stash.

 **OOOOOOO**

The next day, Harry and the dwarves made good time, despite the fact that the rain continued to fall, crossing half again as many leagues as they had the day before. They cross the entirety of the Breelands, unwilling to stop there. They rested within sight of the last few farms of those lands and moved off quickly the next day, with Thorin and Gandalf in the lead.

The party began to fall into a natural division of labor both while moving and at camp. They would break at around noon. At Harry's suggestion Bilbo began to use this time to range around them, silent and unseen before coming back and rejoining the column as they were ready to go, usually with a squirrel or rabbit to aid to the company's fare. Oin and Bofur took over cooking, while Ori and Nori would look after the ponies.

While moving Thorin and Gandalf would be in the lead, with Harry and Kili, Fili, or Dwalin at the back of the column. Harry had quickly learned that those three, along with Thorin himself, were the best warriors in the company, with Gloin, Bifur and Bofur being the next tier of warriors. Whichever warriors were not assigned their back trail or up front with would be set to the side of the main column, watching their flanks. The dwarves rotated through that task but at least one of the better warriors was always somewhere ready and armed. After Harry and Thorin's news about the orcs no one was willing to take any chances.

The other dwarves had other talents, including the fat Bombur who apparently was the wealthiest among them, a financier or money lender or some such in the Blue Mountains. Most of the ponies had belonged to Bofur, who was the owner of a pony stud farm near the lands of something called the Gap of Rohan a land mostly of men rather than dwarves. Dori was a dwarven healer and herbalist who could look after their mount's ailments as well as he could the dwarves, having worked on Bofur's farm.

One thing all the dwarves had was a level of physical toughness Harry had only seen matched in Hagrid. All of them continually wore chain mail under their cloaks, and even though he knew nothing about such things Harry could tell the armor was plain but of excellent quality for all of them, with Thorin's being the best. They also could carry as much as the pack animals, routinely taking several hours a day to give the ponies a break, marching alongside them wearing packs that had to weigh more than Harry as if they were nothing.

The dwarves also shared another thing: a deep undercurrent of grief based upon what they had suffered at the hands of Smaug. Of them all only the three youngest Fili, Kili, and Ori, were too young to remember Erebor, despite it having been sacked 200 years ago. All of three had been born after the sack, though Ori by a bare few years during the time the people of Erebor were still scattered and weak. And all three had grown up on stories of their stolen halls and wealth.

Every one of the others could remember it. They all could remember the names and faces of hundreds of dwarves who died, the smell of the burning, the blood and fire. It remained in their memories seared there like a brand on their souls. The years after had made their marks too, but it was from the fall of Erebor that their anguish sprang.

The dwarves in turn learned about their two new companions, and surprisingly Thorin. Bilbo was not a natural early riser, but as the days went on he seemed to get into the pace far faster than a similarly out of shape dwarf would have. Indeed Bombur and Oin complained far more about the early mornings then Bilbo. The hobbit was also just as silent and good at sneaking around as he had said he was. He and Balin made a game of it at every lunchtime stop, the old dwarf trying to spot the hobbit as he came back from his hunts. Bilbo was also as literate and learned as he could be, arguing points of history with Gandalf, speaking about ancient Elven tales in that tongue, and even knew a smattering of dwarfish, enough to have learned some of their ancient ballads. He and Dori and Nori became close friends over trying to translate a few hobbit drinking songs.

Harry in turn was intelligent but unlearned in anything dealing with trail-craft or history beyond what he had learned from discussion with Thorin and Gandalf, though he was a very good cook and pitched in as one every lunch. Every evening he would practice swordplay with Thorin or one of the others. He was open about the world he had come from, only asking for an even exchange of information, something the dwarves, reticent about themselves and their recent past, had trouble with at times. But they were more willing to talk about their culture and the works of their ancestors, which was enough to appease Harry's questions.

They also learned however that there were things that would set Harry to brooding for a brief second after which he would become even more outgoing, joking and jocular. None of them questioned this, they all had bits and pieces of their past they didn't wish to talk about, and in that Harry fit in easily. Only Balin noticed the true source of this sadness, but put off talking with the human about it for now until they became closer.

His friendship with Thorin also seemed to have somehow thawed him, that first impression the others had gotten proving true over the days on the trail. The two of them often stayed up later than the others, talking quietly about leadership, Harry having gotten a taste of this during his time as leader of the Defense Association and Thorin having been raised to it.

Fili and Kili bonded with Harry over pranks, and being the youngest in the party, indeed all the others had to force themselves at times to remember that despite how young Harry was for his people he was a blooded warrior. Dwalin and Gloin bonded with him over swordwork and drinks. Balin joined Thorin quickly in becoming interested in Harry's runes and what they could mean in the long term, though Gandalf had warned Harry about keeping the magic use to a minimum outside of combat for now.

All in all both of the non-dwarves molded themselves into the company with relative ease.

On the fifth day out from the Shire, Gandalf began to lead the party away from the East Road. The Great East Road wound north out of their way into the ruined lands of Arnor and given their concerns about orcs it was a bad idea to head into that blighted land anyway. Instead they would make for a straight line towards the Misty Mountains, a huge range of mountains between their starting point and the Lonely Mountain, saving them nearly three weeks.

Once they rejoined the East Road they would follow it until met the High Pass. This was the only real pass through the mountains, hewn, according to Gandalf, by Orome of the Valar in the First Age. There was some argument between Thorin and Gandalf about that bit of the route but it hadn't been brought out into the open yet, so Harry had no idea what it might be about. The rest of the journey on the other side of the Mountains was still a matter for debate.

A bare week later they rejoined the East Road and after crossing a river called the Hoarwell their route started to go up into a series of tiny hills before they got to the real mountains, which Gandalf expertly said was within six days distance or so. They would soon need to start skirting north along them, having no wish to head straight up into the mountains.

They were barely out of sight of the river when they surprisingly came upon an abandoned farm. It was just a little ways off the road, but Fili, ranging ahead of the rest of the party to find a place to stop for the evening, spotted it and led the rest of the group to it. Harry and the rest of the company looked around as they were led into the small farm area, noting the outer gate had been knocked down, the house's roof was smashed, and there was a lot of wreckage around scattered around the house.

"What did they farm here, do you think?" Harry asked looking over at Bilbo.

Bilbo frowned looking around, gripping his hobbit bow tightly in one hand, his other dropping to his quiver. "I would think sheep or perhaps goats? No cows and certainly no produce. This soil is not the best for such," he said authoritatively, his bare toes wiggling in said soil for a moment. "But I don't have any idea what could do that to the house."

"This was recent," said Bofur, looking over at Thorin and Gandalf. "The furnishings inside haven't been damaged overmuch by the elements."

"Something smashed that roof from above by the angle," said Kili, looking up at it from underneath for a moment. "Trolls you think?"

"They don't range this far out from the mountains," Thorin said shaking his head.

"Not in days past perhaps but many dark things are on the move these days," Gandalf said frowning darkly. "And while stupid trolls are dangerous opponents."

"Where would they hide during the day?" Thorin asked looking over at Gandalf as Harry mouthed the word 'trolls?'

"Any pre-existing cave would do for that, trolls are better at carving out earth than any other race." Gandalf said with a shrug. "Though if they are still in this area I cannot tell. There are no tracks here…"

Thorin looked over the other dwarves for confirmation but none of them had found anything that looked like fresh tracks either. Unfortunately, it none of them were any good at said activity, not even Bilbo, a fact that surprised many. Harry held up a hand. "These trolls, do they have any inbuilt immunity to direct attack magic Gandalf?"

"It would depend on the variety, hill trolls have but little, mountain trolls and cave trolls much more for their skin is harder like the stone of their environment," Gandalf said, remembering the few times he'd fought trolls. "They are as I said dangerous opponents if they catch you unawares. If not they can be misled or sacred off, they are rather stupid after all."

"Illusion spells then," Harry mused.

As the others began to make camp, Thorin and Gandalf spoke of their route from here on. Thorin wanted to head directly to the High Pass, rest for a half day right before the hills gave way to the mountains, then force march the entire way across the High Pass.

Gandalf however, wanted to skirt around the start of the pass and make for Rivendell, a elven settlement of some sort built into a hidden valley nearby. "There we could gain both more supplies and advice from Elrond himself."

"Ask aid from the elves?" Thorin said spitting the word as if it was a curse word, glaring up at the tall Wizard. "Never!"

"Do not blind yourself to the help he could be," Gandalf began.

"Bah!" Thorin cut him off with a growl. "Help? Where was Elven 'help' when our people needed it, where was the much vaunted kindness of the elves even after the Dragon flew off back to the Lonely Mountain? They could have aided us then without fear of the dragon. But no, they gave us no help even then instead they turned us away! I will never seek help from **any** elf!"

"Elrond knows how to read moon runes! Without that, how are we supposed to know how to find the hidden door? Or do you think that just because you have two wizards instead of one, you can simply march up to the gates of Erebor and knock on the front door to see if the dragon is alive?" Gandalf asked rather scathingly. "Strength of arms alone is worthless in this quest."

Moving towards the two of them through the camp as all the others began to move away Harry could almost hear Thorin's teeth grind together. "And you think Elrond will just help us out of the goodness of his heart? Do not take me for a fool Gandalf! When have elves ever doneanything for my people! We will find another what person to read the moon runes of my **father** 's map." Thorin said, putting an emphasis on the word 'father's'. "Or perhaps decipher it ourselves. Dori and Balin between them could perhaps learn how to read them."

Gandalf seemed to swell up for a moment. Not like he had during Harry's tale of his life with magical fury, but with simple anger. It was at that point that Harry stepped in. "Gentlemen, can we be civil here please? As for your argument I can see both points," he said as both men looked at him, somewhat angry at his interruption. "Thorin, you can't paint all the elves with the same brush as those of Mirkwood who refused to help your people and closed their borders to you. And Gandalf, you cannot honestly imagine that Thorin will forget that kind of thing. Hundreds if not thousands of his people died because Mirkwood was closed to them and worse that the elves of that realm refused to aid them even with food."

As Harry watched Gandalf's anger dissipated quickly. He looked thoughtful, while Thorin continued to glare at Harry managing only a slow nod of his head. Knowing Thorin was rather stubborn Harry was willing to take what he could get. "If you want my advice Thorin, I would meet with this Elrond, but I would also make certain that he knows ahead of time that while you're willing to listen to advice, nothing he says will stop you from your quest. And you are only there to ask for advice. If he demands some kind of payment, we can turn away then."

Thorin growled again, but nodded his head slightly. "I will consider it," he said looking at Gandalf sternly. "I'll give you my decision tomorrow morning."

Gandalf glared at the dwarf then at Harry as Thorin turned away, marching off to talk to Balin. "Mr. Potter," he said, rather coldly "I would have thought that you would have at the very least attempted to mitigate Thorin's stubbornness!"

"If Thorin wasn't stubborn, none of his people would be alive right now," Harry said grimly. "You haven't heard him talk about the march to the Iron Hills, which would've been much easier if they'd been given aid by the Elves, or entirely unneeded if Mirkwood hadn't been closed to them. You need to remember Gandalf that just because you can look past something doesn't mean other people will, or that they don't have a real reason for their anger. "

Gandalf stared at him for a moment, then nodded abruptly and turned away pulling the tethers of his horse around.

"Gandalf where you going?" Bilbo asked.

"To be by myself Mr. Baggins! I find myself in need of some deep thinking, and I cannot get that surrounded by those who would not know such thoughts from holes in the ground!"

He never noticed Harry's grimness giving way to a smirk. Nor did he see the other wizard stretching a finger out towards Gandalf's back. The young man's other finger flashed out towards Thorin and there was a tiny splash of magic from his fingers.

Thorin looked at Balin quizzically as he gasped then stared, looking down at himself and pulling at his beard to look at the color before turning to glare at Harry. Then he stopped, as several other dwarves began to snicker at Gandalf who was just about to leave the camp, now with neon green hair and beard. Harry shrugged unrepentantly under Thorin's glare as Fili and Kili laughed, coming over to slap him on the shoulders. "That conversation was a little too serious, I thought I couldn't let you stay angry for too long lest it fester," Harry said with a butter would not melt in his mouth expression.

Thorin looked down at his beard then chuckled unwillingly. "I suppose it could be worse, dark red at least reminds me of my cousin Dain."

Harry winced. "I suppose that redheads among dwarves have tempers to match those among humans?"

"Oh yes. Dain is slow to anger admittedly, but once it it's begun his anger is something of a legend among the Iron Hills," Thorin drawled, before turning back to his meal to help the others set up a fire pit well away from the ruins of the house.

 **OOOOOOO**

Gandalf did not return that evening or even that night, and it was a somewhat uneasy camp that started to bed down that night under a moonless sky.

Holding two bowls Bilbo moved through the camp heading towards where he knew Kili and Bofur were on watch over the ponies. He found the two of them staring at the edge of the pasture land that they had set the ponies out into. "What's wrong?" He asked, handing the two bowls of stew to them.

"We went to help the others set up a defensive ring over by the farmstead aimed towards and we just came back. Only now…" Bofur began hesitantly.

Kili went on as Bofur floundered. "We should have fourteen ponies, but we're missing three."

All three of them exchanged glances then scrambled into the pasture, moving through the ponies and out the other side to stare at the edge of the pasture land. It had heretofore been marked by a series of large boulders and downed trees which combined to make a crude but effective fence. One of the downed trees had been moved aside, shoved out of position from the outside by brute force.

"Something very big and very strong moved this," Bilbo muttered, completely pointlessly of course as the other two dwarves could easily see the same thing. Staring out into the darkness, he noticed that a few trees in the forest leaving further up into the hills had also been knocked over. "Something very big, like a troll."

"Then it's a good thing we have a thief and scout here isn't it?" Bofur said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Bilbo asked, looking at him skeptically though he feared he already could guess.

"Well, go out there scout around and see what you can find," Kili said somewhat hesitantly.

Bilbo simply stared at him one eyebrow raised. "Somehow I don't think Troll-Finder was in the job description. Still, it is night time out there… Do trolls have good night vision?"

"Not from the tales I've heard, they have horrible day-sight, but no one said anything about having good night vision to go along with having to move around at night." Bofur replied.

Bilbo bit his lip, staring out into the darkness but then nodded slowly. "All right, I'll grab my bow and quiver, you wake up the others. We might need them. If trolls are really out there, I'll try to lead them away or something then we can get the ponies back. If there are too many of them though we might need to be ready to run and cut our losses."

Moments later Harry and Thorin were glaring at Kili and Bofur. "What do you mean you told Bilbo to go out there alone?" Harry asked calmly, his fingers twitching in such a way that worried the young Kili immensely. And judging by his brother's sudden snort of laughter, he had every right to.

"You're looking quite… fair there, brother…" Fili said, chuckling even as he strapped on his chain mail. Kili's hair was now platinum blond and done up in rolling curls. He also had a bright red face. The spell would remain until Harry felt Kili had paid for this bit of thoughtlessness.

"Focus!" Thorin growled, even as his lips twitched at the sight of his cousin. _This could be said to be penance for all the times he and his brother have pranked me over the years, though I shan't mention that at present_. "Which way did our burglar go?"

Fearing what Harry would do to him Bofur quickly explained what had happened and what Bilbo was planning to do. He did not want to get the same treatment as Kili. This didn't help him however, and his hat, which put Harry in mind of one Hagrid wore in winter, sprouted rabbit ears and changed color to bright kill-me orange.

"Get everyone up and the ponies ready to be off," Thorin order Bombur and Dori, the two dwarves who were the worst in a fight before turning to the others. "Let's get after our burglar."

"Scout at the moment, and I'd suggest we wait nearby just in case," Harry said, holding up his hand. "Remember how silently Bilbo can move, if we just rush in, we might bullocks up his plan. No, let's prepare a little more for this and go quietly if we can. Everyone line up, it's time for some serious magic." _I hope these trolls can't sense magic like Gandalf said some orcs can, although maybe I should have thought of that before using magic a few times since we arrived here. Too late now._

With that thought Harry began to cast disillusion charms on the dwarves one after another, along with spells to keep them from being overheard. This took some time, but eventually they were ready to go. Leaving Bombur and Dori behind, the rest of the dwarves and one young wizard moved out into the rocky woodlands.

OOOOOOO

By the time the camp was aroused, Bilbo was already moving through the woods, his bow unstrung in its sheath on its back along with his quiver of arrows. He was moving so silently Harry would have thought that the hobbit had already been silenced, but he wasn't it was just the normal hobbit quiet movement coming out in a far more serious locale than normal. Nor did his bow and quiver get in his way, since Hobbit bow and quivers were special because above all other considerations they were made for stealth.

The quiver was full of either moss or wool so as to muffle any sound of the arrows rattling around. The bow too was kept in a felt covered sheath, until it came time for it to be strung. Of course, all this slowed down the speed with which they could prepare to fire, but hobbits felt that if they were going to sneak around, then it was best they do it properly and as such they would have no business needing to fire quickly.

Hobbit bows were also different than most. They were short of course, as befitted hobbits, but they were also re-curved bows, which gave the bow a lot more stopping power than any bow of a similar size. Made of yew prepared in a secret solution they were also able to bend somewhat more easily than most recurve bows which helped keep the bow silent, a problem than most recurved bows had being much noisier when fired then a normal bow.

Bilbo had never really considered those properties before, but right now he was very thankful for them as he moved through the night, over and underbrush leaving behind no sounds or signal of his passage. Eventually the trail he was following in a roundabout manner through the woods ended at dip in the land protected on two sides by a rocky crag of stone. There was a fire there, and a primitive and small paddock set against the far side of the crag of stone containing the missing ponies. That stone also had a small cleft in it, which cut down into the earth too.

And around the fire were three massive beings which had to be trolls. Bilbo had never seen one before of course, but felt up to giving them that label.

All three trolls were grotesque, huge, fat grey skinned creatures at least three or four stories tall each, with massive hands that looked as if they could pluck Bilbo up as easily as if he was a rabbit. Their gray skin looked thick, they had huge, bulbous noses jutting out and down from between deep set eyes over jutting jowls and not a single hair on their bodies.

From where he was crouched in the darkness Bilbo frowned, ignoring the three trolls seemingly complaining about the sameness of the food they were eating. He wasn't a burglar, not really, but then again I'm not about to try and burgle anything off these three, just get their ponies back. _Now, how to go about doing so…_ he mused, moving further back into the darkness as he recalled the sketchy plan he had shared with Kili and Bofur. Pulling out his bow and an arrow for a moment he contemplated it and the giant trolls. Shaking his head he put both back in their respective places, then looked around thinking.

Thinking hard, he moved through the undergrowth, pulling out some of the spare bow strings that he had bought from the Old Took. With that and a few rocks he began to set up a series of bonkers, small noise making traps that little hobbits were wont to create at the drop of a hat around a hollow tree stump. The rocks would bounce every time the string on them was pulled, and hopefully in this instance grab the troll's attention.

Tying all the string together to a longer piece of rope what was part of all of their camp kits, Bilbo slowly moved away through the brush before crouching down hiding among a few bushes. Once certain he was hidden he pulled on the rope lying slack next to him, listening intently as the bonkers went off.

"'ere, what was that?" Said one of the trolls.

"Somet'ings moving out dere," said the second troll, getting to its feet. "Might be somet'ing tastier then pony!"

"Aye, let's go and see," said the third moving away from the stewpot and the three trolls picked up large clubs and moved in the direction of the noise.

Bilbo tugged on the rope a few more times, making certain that the trolls knew in which direction the noise was coming from before quickly crawling off through the underbrush, then almost running around the incoming trolls towards their camp, relying on his hobbit feet to remain silent.

He reached the troll camp without trouble. Once there he pulled out a tiny knife and began to cut into the sinew of something or other that the trolls were using to keep the paddock closed. Once he had it open he grabbed the ponies' leads trying to shush them as he got them moving while nearby the trolls wandered around the area where Bilbo had set up the bonkers.

He was just out of the firelight when one of the ponies let lose a bray as its fellow kicked up a stone into its leg. At the sound the trolls all turned from where they had been looking around the forest. "'Ere that little thing's tryin' to steal our food!"

"Heh, he looks plump enough to replace it any road! Get it!"

Panicking Bilbo pulled harder at the lead of the ponies, racing through the underbrush away from the trolls who snarled after him.

It was at that point that the rest of the company arrived, moving forward with roars and shouts loud enough to break the spells covering them. "Well done Mr. Baggins!" Thorin bellowed as he raced past towards the trolls with the others at his heels. "Barak Khazad!"

"Tanar Durin Nur!" replied the other dwarves as they howled forward in a mob.

Harry was with them until he slid to a stop, casting several illusion spells over the area, doubling the number of dwarves charging forward. He did this by simply copying the dwarves' looks twice each, then spreading out the copies. But despite suddenly finding themselves surround by near to forty dwarves the Trolls didn't try to run away and instead began to lash out at the dwarves and the illusions.

"Split into groups!" Thorin shouted, closing in on one troll from behind. "Dwalin lead one, I'll lead a second, Fili and Kili the third. Harry, keep conjuring!"

Harry nodded, but his hands were already working into an attack spell, a simple stupefy towards the leading troll to see if Gandalf had been correct about these trolls having some magical immunity like the trolls in his own world.

 _They do sort of look like them, only about three times the size and apparently somewhat more intelligent, though that's not saying much!_ The red blast of magic washed over the troll without any apparent reaction, and he cursed before casting a Lumos spell. Light blazed around the small dip in the hills, causing the trolls to rear back in surprise. Unfortunately for Harry's hopes, the spell didn't actually create sunlight, simply a light, and as such didn't have the mysterious properties of sunlight which would have caused the trolls to turn to stone. After a moment's hesitation the trolls roared and moved forward, swinging their trunks or fists down at the dwarves and their illusion body doubles.

The real dwarves were all around them now hacking and slashing moving in and out quickly, none of them staying still. But only the strongest of them could penetrate the hide of the troll's, who were ignoring the injuries they were sustaining. Bofur, Ori and Gloin, wielding maces and a warhammer respectively, were having better luck though. One troll howled, hopping on one foot as he held his other foot with both hands, screaming in pain at the broken toe from a blow from Gloin's hammer.

When he closed in at one point Harry ran into the same problem, the sword of Gryffindor just bouncing off the troll's hide as he slashed forward. He just wasn't strong enough to actually slice into the troll's thick hide. _I'd have to thrust,_ _and none of these three are staying still for that kind of thing._

The trolls were surprisingly maneuverable, and those giant clouds of theirs crashed through many of Harry's illusions. One such blow caught a dwarf, Harry thought it might be Bifur he couldn't quite tell from his angle, and the dwarf was flung through the air. To Harry's astonishment though the dwarf got back up, his armor and general durability was able to see him through that blow, though he'd be feeling it in a few hours.

Dodging under a blow of his own Harry cried out "Reducto!" the spell slammed into the troll knocking it back a few feet and opening up a small spiral pattern wound on its fat stomach but it didn't slow the troll down. The troll roared, but his fist came down, smashing through another one of Harry's illusions, before grabbing up a dwarf in its massive mitt. Oin, Harry recognized, before launching another spell. "Bombarda!"

The spell, which sort of resembled a canon blast struck the troll's arm, and it yelled in fury and agony as the bone in the arm broke somewhere under the explosive impact. Oin dropped to the ground rolling forward between the troll, stabbing upwards, and the troll yelped, jumping away. "Oy, dere's no call for dat!"

Elsewhere the dwarves were not having it go their way, unable to do much damage and the battle was slowly going against them. "AHH help!" Nori yelled in fear and shock as he was plucked up into the air, while Ori was smacked aside.

But then Thorin was there, thrusting his sword down into the foot of the trolls. "Baruk Khazad!" The blade bit deep into the large foot, and the wound began bleeding profusely as Thorin ripped his blade out ready to stab again.

"GRAHH you little shit, I'm gonna make paste out of ya!" The troll howled in agony, but was able to nearly take Thorin's head off with a cuff to the head, hurling him away. Thorin looked up groggily shaking his head and was about to be slammed to the ground by the troll's raging fist, when it seemed to pause, the fist unclenching and going up to its face. "GAAAAH!" It screamed in agony once more and the dwarves saw in the light of Harry's Lumos that an arrow had just sprouted from one of its eye.

A second arrow soon followed slamming fletching deep into its second eye, blinding the troll utterly. The troll raged around, slamming into its two fellows and then off into the forest maddened with agony and blind.

"Well shot Bilbo!" Harry exclaimed, finally getting into a position of his own to thrust forward with the sword of Gryffindor. The same troll he had been targeting with his spells hadn't seen him coming, dealing with Gloin and Bofur. The sword penetrated its thick hide, along the calf. "ARGh, yar little humie!"

Ducking under a frantic grab Harry retreated, but troll turned, following his movements. "Wait until I's get ya in my po, my pot…I…AGGGGGGG!"

Grimly Harry backed away, watching as the troll staggered, still trying to grab it did dwarves all around it for a second until the pain of the venom him. Then it screamed, grabbing at the injury and spasming in agony as the basilisk venom went to work.

For a moment the clearing fell silent as the surviving troll turned and stared as did the dwarves at its friend's death throes. This moment was interrupted by a booming voice from on high of the rocky crag set along one side of the hidden gully. "Dawn take you all and be stone to you!"

The troll turned, and they watched as Gandalf brought his staff down, shattering the giant boulder which had heretofore been hiding the clearing from the newly risen sunlight. The troll roared trying to turn away, trying to get into its hole but too late, and Harry watched in bemused fascination as the single remaining troll, it's horribly wounded fellow and the body of the poisoned troll all turned to stone. The effect wasn't instantaneous, but it was still quick, and between one second and the next they were all turned into granite statue as where they stood.

Harry sighed sinking to his knees as he gingerly began to clean the sword of Gryffindor. Around, him the dwarves set up a cheer. Bilbo was the hero of the hour, having blinded one of the trolls, while Harry soon found his back becoming sore from all the slaps it received.

Pushing to his feet Harry moved over towards where Thorin had been making towards Gandalf. "A timely intervention, yet where did you get off to Gandalf?" Thorin's was saying as he came up.

"Looking ahead," Gandalf said simply.

"And what brought you back?" Harry asked.

"Looking behind," Gandalf replied, his gaze moving between the two odd friends before turning his attention fully to Thorin.

"I owe you an apology Thorin," he said slowly. "I tend to take the long view, see the true threat as I believe it to be so clearly that I forget that grievances between dwarves and elves, or humans and either, can have more basis in this day and age then I like to recall. I will not ask you to forget such again, but I do ask you to remember that Elrond is not Thranduil. His people have never personally done aught to you and yours either through action or inaction. And we **do** need his help."

Thorin frowned then looked over to the trolls then at Harry, who nodded at him. "I suppose I have to apologize too, to both you and to Mr. Baggins. As for Elrond, I will give him the benefit of the doubt when we meet."

Nearby Balin and Dwalin, who had been moving to join them, stopped and stared while Fili gasped in shock. Thorin glared at his nephew for a second, before turning back to look over at Bilbo and then to Gandalf. "I had doubted Bilbo's inclusion even after he had proven himself a good hunter on the road. But you were right Gandalf, and you are indeed a welcome addition to this party Mr. Baggins."

"Bilbo," Bilbo said firmly. "I think were beyond needing to rely on Mr. at this point." Then he smirked. "But you're looking a little green Gandalf, are you coming down with something?"

"Green is it, I happen to think I do this color justice young Bilbo." Gandalf said, stroking his still-green beard and winking at Harry. Then with a wave of his hand and a bare whisper of magic, both Gandalf's and Thorin's hair was back to their original color. Harry simply nodded at the older wizard then looked over at Oin as the dwarf moved towards him, wanting to thank Harry for saving his life.

"Bilbo, Thorin!" Shouted Bofur. "We've found the troll cave!"

Gandalf, Harry and the others moved towards Bofur, coming across the cleft in the rock Bilbo had spotted during his scouting. It was large enough to allow a troll to enter, and quite a bit deeper than Harry had first assumed when he spotted it during the battle. The dwarves began to look around the cave finding several chests worth of jewelry and gold, scattered here and there, worthless to the trolls who only cared about feeding their bottomless stomachs. These they began to bury outside the cave, while a few other dwarves took down the primitive fence outside hurling the bits away so that no one could find the treasure once they buried it.

Thorin, Gandalf, and Harry though continued to explore deeper, eventually finding buried blades as well. "How did **this** get to be here?!" Gandalf exclaimed as he pulled out a long sword, the blade of it nearly as tall as Bilbo was at the shoulders. Holding it up Gandalf moved into a series of attacks, showing that the ancient wizard was quite a bit sprier than he looked. "This is Elven work! No warrior worth wielding a sword like this would've been beaten by mere mountain trolls."

"The trolls might have raided someone else's treasury at some point, or perhaps a battlefield," Thorin said, pulling out a dwarven axe and handing it over to Balin who nodded taking it. Underneath that he found another blade, shorter than the one Gandalf had down by about a foot but with a thicker blade. When he pulled the blade out of its sheath he noticed it too was of excellent craftsmanship, its edge not dulled at all by the ages.

"That too is Elven make," Gandalf said shaking his head. "Such an odd place to find blades of this worth!"

Thorin stiffened slightly, but said nothing and simply belted the new sword to his side after examining the blade closely. He had to admit, grudgingly, that it was good as or better than any his people could've made. In this day and age anyway, he added hastily to himself.

Behind them Bilbo tripped near the entrance, eliciting some chuckles from the nearby dwarves. "Really Bilbo, you can move through the night so silent and unseen then trip over those giant feet of yours when the battle's over?" asked Fili teasingly.

"I would think my timing was actually quite excellent in that case Fili." Bilbo retorted before reaching down to fell out the ground and find what he had tripped over. A second later he pulled out what looked like a short sword in his hands. "Another sword?"

"More like a dagger lad," said Balin, leaning over the hobbit's shoulder to gaze at the blade. "Elven make like the swords too, though. Keep it Bilbo, like you said in your hands it's a decent short sword."

"These are indeed excellent finds even that one," Gandalf said smiling and knowing now that the powers in the West were with them, aiding their luck in this quest. "Elven weapons glow in the presence of enemies, you'll never be snuck up upon so long as you can check for it."

"But wait," Harry said holding up a hand. "Doesn't that mean they'll also give your position away to the enemy?"

Gandalf actually twitched. "Ahh, yes that might indeed take some thought. Elves can control that enchantment, but I don't know if even another wizard will be able to control the reaction, it might be an enchantment bound to their elven blood. Yet another reason to go to which Rivendell," he said, glancing sideways at Thorin.

Thorin scowled. "I already said we would head to Rivendell Gandalf, do not rub it in."

"And meanwhile…" Harry said, glancing from the sword of Gryffindor to the Elven blade in Thorin's hand, noting the differences, "I think we need to figure out a better way of working as a unit instead of a mob…"

 **OOOOOOO**

In the most distance reaches of Mirkwood at an ancient fortress named Dol Goldur, evil dwelt. It marshalled its forces, biding its time, gathering its strength both magical, material and among its followers.

Sauron was that evil's name, the Abominable in Quenya. It was a name he had earned in acts of evil great and small throughout the ages of Arda. He of course had setbacks, much like his master Morgoth or as Sauron still thought of him, the one true god of Arda. He had lost his original body in the sinking of Numenor and the bending of the world by Eru Iluvatar after he, Sauron, had convinced the Over-proud Numenoreans to break the Ban of the Valar. But thanks to his creation of the One Ring his spirit had survived, able to create a new physical form.

He had lost that form too when sundered from his ring, nor had he yet regained a physical form. But despite the lack of a physical body, his will was still strong, and everything that had been created by his master owed allegiance to him, though the most powerful creatures, dragons and Balrogs, could and did resist his call, if they were aware of it at all in his still-weakened state.

The time was coming, Sauron knew, when its garb as the Necromancer would fail it at last, or perhaps his guise as the Necromancer would become too powerful for his enemies to ignore. He, if such a term could be used to describe Sauron, had planned for that eventuality and was almost ready to retreat in good order to Barad Dur, the true seat of his strength, the heart of Mordor.

There he would be unassailable even if all the peoples in the Free Worlds tried to make war on him. At least if he could keep from retreating until his armies there were strong enough to secure that land's natural borders. The alliance he had made when he had feigned a retreat years before this with the Easterlings would be a major aid there.

But something new was moving across Middle Earth, magic of a kind he had never sensed before. But at present he was still too weak, and too wary of the White Council to discern what kind of magic it was or it's user's precise location. Yet Sauron could feel the direction of the changes the magic made to the world, and that was almost enough.

The orcs and goblins surrounding Sauron's pillars all shuddered as the blazing pillar of fire and darkness that was Sauron spoke, his voice appearing in all their minds with a physical force as he spoke the Black Tongue. " **Send messages out to all of our hidden realms in the Misty Mountains. Be on the watch for a strange magic user. He is to be taken alive if possible, killed if not. And send for Azog. This task is more important than my chosen general's personal vendetta."**

 **End Chapter**

* * *

I tried to use a font to make Sauron's speech stand out as it should, but while the bold stayed the style did not, ah well.

Anyway, hope you all liked this chapter, and as always please review. Also be on the lookout tomorrow for the poll for next month. I hear my SW muse calling me back baby!


	4. Chapter 4

Alas, my last name is not Tolkien nor Rowling.

Apologies for this being a day later than I had promised, I had hoped to get it back edited before posting it, but my new editor hasn't gotten it back to me yet. I will update this chapter when he has with the betaed version. If you prefer to read stories with as few mistakes as possible, please wait until this message disappears.

Of the small stories included in this month's poll, _Fate touched in Middle Earth_ won 262 votes here on fanfic, coming in second place, and won 428 over on P r tron. This gave it 690 votes total, beating out even Magic of the Force. I found it interesting to see the love of Tolkien and Harry was able to defeat the power of ecchi. comedy. You go guys!

This has now been betaed by my new beta reader Michael. He has done a very good job of removing most of the mistakes, and in particular the DNS created issues.

* * *

 **Fate Touched Chapter 4: Tactics, Training, and Lots of Magic**

The party moved on quickly after finishing with the troll's cave despite most of the dwarves, Harry, and Bilbo not having gotten any sleep the previous night. The hobbit complained about it once or twice, and they had more problems with the ponies, who were intelligent enough to know that they should've gotten more rest before being loaded up once more. Harry dealt with his first recalcitrant mount because of that, and barely avoided being bitten by his pony. "Bloody hell, you stupid animal; I'm not edible! I thought ponies only ate grass and stuff like that."

"Hah, yes, but they do tend to become angry and fractious if worked too hard, or if they have had a fright," said Bombur, chuckling into his beard as he helped Harry to his feet. The fattest dwarf in the company was remarkably quick at times. "Just show them who's in charge. Use the reins freely and don't be afraid to thump them a good one to the nose or top of their head."

"Noted," Harry said, dodging an attempt by his mount to step on him. He pulled on the reins hard, dragging the head around as he leaped into the saddle, landing like a sack for a moment. The pony's ears went back, and it seemed to think about acting out further for a moment.

Suddenly having an idea, Harry leaned forward, whispering into the pony's ear, but not in the local language. Instead, he used Parseltongue. "Quit it, you stupid beast."

The reaction was instantaneous, the pony stiffening, almost shuddering in place. It couldn't understand him, of course, but hearing a snake's hiss from right next to its ear would be enough to make any equine freeze. After a moment, when it wasn't bitten, the pony started moving forward, still looking around warily, unable to figure out the sound had come from its rider.

After starting off, the group fell once more into a column with Fili splitting out to one side and Bofur the other, and Dwalin guarding the back of the column. Now that Thorin had agreed to meet with Elrond at his home, Gandalf once more took the lead of the column.

This allowed Thorin and Harry time to talk about what Harry called group tactics, or rather about the lack thereof the party had shown. "You can't just charge in and assume you're going to be able to hack anything you meet into pieces. It worked this time because of myself and Bilbo, and admittedly Gandalf's timely arrival. We need some more organization and teamwork. An organized unit of soldiers will beat any group of barbarian warriors into the ground."

Harry had loved learning about ancient history, at least until he got to Hogwarts, anyway. He remembered reading about the Roman legions in particular. "In my world there was an empire built on the backbone of their infantry. They had used organization, training, and an understanding of combat engineering and logistics to defeat larger or equivalently sized armies of barbarians, including those of my own homeland. For a time, anyway. I think we can use some of the same tactics they did."

"Group tactics or formations won't work against trolls, lad," Balin said with a chuckle from where he was riding a pony behind Thorin. "They'd just smash through it. We dwarves are strong, but not that strong. And though few of us would like to admit it, orcs can become even stronger than us, and their longer reach can make them deadly."

"He's right. Oh, I've seen polearms deal with trolls before in formation, but even then you have issues. And you're open to attack from orcs or goblins when they get under your spears," Thorin said, tugging at his beard as he looked at Harry shrewdly, wondering where his human friend was going with this. Yet after seeing Harry in action several times now. Thorin was willing to hear him out.

"That's no excuse for not trying in the first place. We're a small group, and we should start training together to emphasize our ability to fight **together** , rather than separately. Organization and training is a force multiplier," Harry said.

"This coming from the boy who charged his mortal enemy and tackled him through a seemingly deadly mirror rather than work with his fellows to take the man down," said Thorin and drolly. "Your words do not persuade."

"But before that I **was** working with a group. A group, furthermore, that I had trained to work together. Sixteen and seventeen year-olds trained to work together in units against grown-ups who had used magic all their lives, and we were winning until Riddle showed up," Harry replied calmly, though his face twitched at the memory.

Noticing that Balin winced once more, wondering about what, or rather who, the young human had lost. He said nothing, however, as Harry held out a hand.

"Look at this." Harry imagined what he wanted to conjure up. then he was holding a Roman shield. It wasn't a perfect example. of course, Harry had never been close to a real one, but it was close enough. Harry knew the weight was wrong the moment he had it in his hand. It wasn't nearly heavy enough to be the real thing, but the size was accurate at least. He handed it over to Thorin who took it gingerly, at first thinking it would disappear the moment he touched it. He was still not used to Harry's conjuration abilities

"It's light," Thorin said after a moment.

"The original was heavier in my world. I think my conjuration of it needs some work," Harry said with a shrug. "What the ancient Roman warriors of my world would do would be to form what they call the shield wall, each shield slightly overlapping with their allies to either side, holding the line as the attacker advanced. The attacker crashes into them, then they would separate the shields slightly." Harry described this by pulling his two fists apart, the knuckles almost looking like they interlocked for a moment before he did so. "Then they would thrust out with short swords."

"Laddie, if we used short swords we'd never be able to hit the enemy! They'd always have a reach advantage," Balin said with a laugh.

"Not according to the history of my world. Barbarians routinely used broadswords or two-handed axes and swords, but they'd always have to come within range of the short sword to try to get over the shield or break the shield wall."

That caused Balin to fall silent, thinking.

"Give me another one. Let's see if you can get the weight and material right, first," Thorin ordered, holding the shield back out Harry.

Harry nodded and began to change the shield, making it slightly larger, having missed on the size the first time for a dwarf, something he only realized when Thorin was holding it. Then he thickened the wood while adding a metal boss around the rim of the shield as well as in the center. _Just like being back in Transfiguration class trying to create a more elaborate teapot or needle,_ he thought whimsically, holding the shield out to Thorin again.

Thorin held it for a moment, moving it up and down on his arm as he mimed thrusting with his other hand. A moment later he pulled his pony to a halt before kicking out of the saddle of the pony, handing the reins to Balin who was watching interestedly. Thorin held the shield, pulling out his new sword with his other hand. The shield was as tall as Thorin was, almost, covering him from hobnail boot up to his nose, and wasn't heavy enough for him to notice much at all.

"Ori, Gloin, get down here," Thorin ordered. "Harry, conjure up two more shields. Let's see if there is any kind of reasoning behind this idea."

The two dwarves so named scrambled off of their ponies while the rest of the column came to a halt with Gandalf looking back from the head of the column quizzically. The three dwarves now standing, however, ignored their fellows, moving into a line formation with Thorin in the center as Harry conjured up two more identical shields from the first one, copying its design exactly now.

"I've seen a special on, well, I guess you could call it a play once, where they showed how this worked," Harry said, getting down from his own pony and moving towards them, adjusting their stances and how they were holding their shields, occasionally.

"See here," he said, as the shields slid together, one on top of another. "They would overlap just slightly like this, covering their fellows and their sides, then at an order from their officers the shields would come apart, and their short swords would stab out."

"How do you get over the problem of facing stronger opponents who could just smash your entire shield wall away?" asked Dwalin, crossing his powerful arms over his chest, staring with something approaching contempt at this three dwarves on the ground with their shields. He wilted slightly at Thorin's glare, but even Thorin wondered about that one.

"Ahh, but you have wizards with you," Harry said with a chuckle. "Place your shields down onto the ground, you three."

They did so, hunkering down behind them for a moment as Harry waved his hands, muttering an incantation under his breath.

"Ahh, that is a fascinating concept," Gandalf said suddenly, having come up on them from the front of the column without Harry noticing. Harry turned, and Gandalf winked at him. "I was able to follow the magic for that one, and indeed I might be able to replicate that spell, with difficulty admittedly for that second part."

"Interesting," Harry said, before looking over at the objector. "Try to smash their shields, Dwalin, and you too, Dori."

Shrugging his shoulders the bald dwarf got off his pony and moved forward as Dori did the same, pulling out his warhammer. Without warning Dwalin charged the short distance between where he had been in the column and the three dwarves to one side of it, his axes flashing out. A second later the blows bounced off causing no harm, and he cursed, the vibrations of the impact almost causing him to drop his weapons. He shouted angrily at the top of his lungs in dwarfish as he glared over at Harry. "You could've warned me, you emerald-eyed ass!"

Dori came at the problem more cautiously. He stood at the farthest point he could from the shield wall and his fellows while still being able to hit them with his warhammer, then swung as powerful a blow as he could right at the center of the leftmost shield. The blow bounced off like it had hit a rock and Dori turned with the blow, taking the vibrations somewhat better with his hammer than Dwalin had with his axes. "That's amazing!"

I used three spells to first connect the shields to the ground, then to make them unbreakable, and also added weight to them," Harry explained. "I can make the entire shield wall almost unbreakable for a short amount of time. Though you wouldn't be able to go on the offensive like that. I'd have to cancel the spells and let you be able to pick the shields up again and break the line to stab out, then redo them after."

Thorin picked up the shield again, hefting it thoughtfully. "This has promise, Harry, but…" Thorin wasn't certain he was enthusiastic about this change to their "tactics," as Harry called it, but then again Thorin was one of the four best warriors in the group and had a lot of confidence in his own abilities. However, he could not deny that not everyone in the party was as good a warrior as he would've liked. _Oin, Ori, Nori, Dori, Balin, and Bombur, at the very least, should learn to work together like this._

On the other hand Balin was enthusiastic about the idea. He shouted something in dwarfish that made Thorin blink for a moment before slowly nodding agreement even if he didn't look convinced.

Gandalf leaned over and said softly, "Balin has already spotted a bit of an issue with that kind of tactic, that you can be flanked. But if you back it up with pike and are in a tunnel? Much of the war against the orcs in the mountains occurred underground in just such an environment. You could save yourself a lot of casualties while slaughtering the enemy with this kind of tactic. It's a very interesting concept, but it would take a lot of training, would it not, to pull off the shield wall like your Romans?"

"In my world it took **constant** training. I think the term a soldier would have to sign up for was ten to fifteen years, something like that. Training would be practically constant from that point on. Six months to a year before he was put out into the actual legions, and then constant training in camp and even on the march. Like I said, the Romans faced armies larger than them, more maneuverable and sometimes with better weapons and certainly better bows at times. Organization and working together were the main weapons against that kind of thing."

Gandalf nodded thoughtfully, watching as Balin argued with a few of the other dwarves in their own tongue. "They are objecting to it, saying it isn't honorable to hide behind shields like that. Odd that Dwalin, Balin, and the other more experienced among them in warfare are not the ones arguing."

"Honor," Harry said loudly, getting everyone's attention, "is coming home again victorious." With a faint smile towards Thorin he went on as the other dwarves all looked at him. "Warfare is not honorable; it is simply necessary at times. Never go into battle looking for glory or you'll just find death. Enter war like you are a tradesman, say a blacksmith, at his trade, and the enemy the metal you are going to pound. The enemy doesn't have any rights, and dealing with it gives you know pleasure or joy, but it must be done. Take pleasure from a job well done after the battle is over."

Thorin had remained silent throughout this discussion, simply watching, before tying the shield to the saddle of his pony as Harry finished, barely hiding a smirk beyond his beard. "How long will that last, Harry?"

"About half an hour, or so I think. Conjurations like that never last very long."

"It's a good idea for facing orcs and other groups of it enemies, but we need to think of the Dragon and regular tactics now, not training for later," Thorin said seriously as the column began to move once more. "But your magic, Harry, can be a game changer, and I think we've just discovered ways you can help. Support spells like those you just used, and after last night..."

"Agreed. I was thinking of three stages for myself in a fight. One, illusions and conjured beasts to bolster our company's position and disrupt the enemy."

"Yes, the conjured beasts helped quite a lot last night," Bilbo said helpfully from where he had been listening to the exchange, rather sleepily and disinterestedly, it had to be said. He wasn't used to going without a full night's sleep any longer, although he had toughened up noticeably since this journey began. On top of that Bilbo would be the last person in the company to be part of a shield wall like that for various reasons.

"They were, indeed," Balin said musingly, looking over Gandalf. "Can you do that kind of spell, Gandalf?"

"Alas no, Balin. My powers rely on a different method, or rather school of thought than Harry's. His is about controlling, or adding to the environment. Mine is about working with natural forces."

Harry nodded to that. "We've talked about this, and we think that Gandalf's magic is more powerful, but it's raw ore rather than refined, as it were, compare to mine. To use another analogy, my magic is a full set of tools for several hundred different jobs, while Gandalf's magic is a set of tools designed to perform a dozen specific tasks where they work far better than my own tools."

There were several nods at that since that was an analogy most of the dwarves could understand, and Harry went on. "Anyway, that would be stage one. Then I'd follow that up with support spells. Conjuring up defenses or weapons or anything else of that nature for you all would be stage two. Direct attack spells would be stage three."

"And charging in with your sword at the very end?" Thorin asked archly. "You still need training with that blade of yours. Furthermore," he went on before Harry could say anything, "your conjured weapons aren't very good. I tested one of them before they disappeared last night, and it shattered on the first blow. Do you even know what steel is?"

Harry looked confused for a moment, staring down at the sword riding at his side. "Um, I know it's created through mixing different ores, but I have no idea about their right mix, if that's what you're asking. A sword is rather more work than a needle or something of that nature."

"Nodding his head at that Thorin replied. "There's no harm in that. A farmer or wizard shouldn't have to know that kind of thing. But if you're going to be conjuring weapons for us, I think you need to learn now." After that he'd launched into a long discussion on the proper weight balance and makeup of a sword, with Oin, a miner of some renown in the Blue Mountains, joining in.

Nearby, Fili, who had just rejoined the column, replaced at his position by Gloin, winced. Shaking his head he leaned over toward Harry, whispering, "Sorry, our uncle's a bit of a perfectionist with such things."

Harry shrugged. "I find it interesting, and he's right, I do need to know this stuff. Conjured weapons or even shields wouldn't do much if they fell apart in battle the moment I removed my spells."

"Well, shields are entirely different from swords, of course, even in the metal you'd like to see around the rim…" Thorin replied, before going on to that topic.

That discussion lasted the rest the day, interspersed with both Thorin and Harry taking turns breaking trail with Gandalf. But despite what he had said about thinking of tactics to deal with the dragon, Thorin sent Bilbo ahead to find a spot for them to stop for the night a little earlier than he would have before the battle with the trolls.

They stopped in a rather nice, if small, clearing just off the route they had been following. It was almost hidden between two trees which had grown so close together they seemed to almost be touching one trunk to the other about seven feet up. But you could lead your ponies through on foot one at a time, finding the clearing on the other side defended on every side by rocks and other trees. It was a small space, but a very easily defensible one.

Putting the ponies at the far back next to the rocky outcrop, the rest of the dwarves gathered near the entrance to the glade and began to prepare the rest of the camp as Gandalf looked around thoughtfully. "This place is a bit too perfect. I wonder…" he said before stooping and smiling at something he picked up from the ground. It was a small stone with a mark of some kind on it. "Well, Mr. Baggins, this was indeed a fortunate find. This is a Rangers' camp.

Bilbo blinked in shock at that, having heard of the Rangers a time or two. "Truly?"

The dwarves however looked blank as did Harry, and Gandalf perforce had to explain. "The Rangers are a group of men who patrol the Badlands around Angmar and elsewhere in Middle Earth. They bow to no nation, but they hunt dark things that move from the Western Sea to the mountains of Mordor, guarding all the other nations from them."

Thorin nodded thoughtfully at that. "The human nation of Gondor is the stout shield, and these the hunters in the dark. Are we likely to meet any such on the road?"

"No. Their numbers have never been great, so it would be indeed be a lucky chance if we were to meet any such." For a moment he looked over at Harry, then away, his thoughts hidden, though no one had seen his look in any event.

"Then, at least we can make use of this camp of theirs for the night. Harry, conjure up those shields again. Bombur, Ori, Nori, Dori, Oin, and Bifur, get over here. Let's try that shield tactic, three on three I think, for now, pushing against one another. I want to see how it works with weapons other than swords, and how well it would work without Harry's magic backing it up."

It turned out that it worked all right with other weapons, but the slashing attacks most weapons other than swords demanded took long enough to open up the user for counter blows from the enemy. Thrusting with the sword was really the best way to both attack and let your shield do the work of defending yourself.

After some time spent helping the dwarves with that idea, Harry worked with Balin to create a pike, taking a massively long spear and putting a pike head on the end of it. The billhook was sharp, heavy, and deadly in a thrust, having slightly more range than even the clubs the trolls had been using the evening before. "Aye, that's it laddie! That's the kind of thing I saw the dwarves of the Stiffbeards use in the war against the orcs."

"Stiffbeards? They'd be another clan based on the seven fathers of the dwarves, correct?" Harry asked, clicking his fingers as he tried to bring them to mind. "Thorin told me they sent a small unit to the war, but it was one of the best trained."

"Aye, they only sent eight hundred to the war, given how far they had to come from the east, aye and through a lot of hostile territory too. Rhun is a land of ancient peoples, and ones who have never been friendly to outsiders. The other Eastern clans also sent troops. Twas a magnificent moment of unity between the dwarven clans, but…" Balin sighed. "All for merely a partial victory, not the total. Khazad Dum still lies within the hands of the orcs."

Shaking his head, Balin described how the Stiffbeards had used the pikes. They worked well enough against trolls, and even against orcs, but not so well against goblins that were quick enough to duck underneath the heavy, unwieldy weapons. Second and third pike rows could deal with that, but then the group of pikes were not wieldy enough to deal with trolls.

Despite this Balin was already thinking up ways of using the pike and the shield wall in tandem with Harry's magic. "One row of shield and short sword users, then two rows of pike, I think. Some illusions spells to confuse the trolls, then the pike charge in, killing it, only to retreat back behind the shield line. It could work even in enclosed spaces, I think. And orcs can only rarely bring more than two or three trolls to a fight at a time. They are stupid creatures, for the most part, that must be goaded in the right direction."

Thorin also liked the idea. During the war against the orcs of the Misty Mountains trolls had been few and far between, never used in more than groups of three, but they had still been deadly for all but the Stiffbeards. However, Thorin felt that the training necessary for most of Balin's ideas would be something they would have to start their young on before dwarves got set into their ways.

That, Balin willfully agreed with. "Our people are stone hard. It makes us hard to influence us against our will, but it also makes us slow to change or take in new ideas, and it gets worse as we grow older."

"Really, I hadn't noticed," Harry said far too innocently, while Bilbo and the three youngest dwarves hid chuckles behind their hands.

Dwalin smacked Harry upside the head, growling good-naturedly at the human who he'd come to see as a friend just like his king did. "And now I think it's time for personal training. Why don't you go conjure yourself a sword, Harry, and we'll get started?"

Groaning, Harry did so and was thoroughly thrashed by a series of dwarves, only able to hold his own in a pure sword contest against Fili and Kili. One preferred to stay at range with a bow, while Kili preferred mobility and dodging attacks rather than parrying just like Harry did. But Harry was faster at it and had a longer reach, which gave him an advantage.

The group set out early the next morning, and for the next four days they traversed the forests quickly and efficiently, stopping early every night to train with the new tactics. Harry spent the journey talking magic with Gandalf, coming away with more respect for the older man's form of magic and its sheer brute power, while Gandalf came away with a better understanding of the malleable nature of Harry's magic. It was exactly as Harry had described: Gandalf could do fewer actual things with his magic than Harry, but what he could do he did to a level that Harry couldn't match.

For another thing, unlike Harry's magic, Gandalf's magic automatically fought against the aura of darkness that groups of orcs or goblins created. He had never felt the debilitating effect Harry had described, and his spells, light and air based, were polar opposites to the magic inherent in the fell creation of the dark races. That gave him an edge against them that Harry didn't have.

Moreover, they talked further about the magic elves and wizards could both use in this realm. The enchantments Gandalf described had effects that seemed to last far longer than any in Harry's realm, and were also far more powerful. The notice me not arrays that covered the Wizarding world were decent and powerful, but they were actually more runic work than enchantments.

But while they worked very well, Harry had no idea if they could have stood up to millions of people actually looking for where they were hidden. And they certainly would not have stood up to confusing or keeping a literal Dark God at bay as some of the Elven nations in the past had. The arrays back home were also passive things, while the enchantments of the elven lands were aggressive in keeping their borders or warning those within of intruders, which would have been an entirely different spell back home.

From there they discussed how Harry could learn some of Gandalf's tricks, in particular his ability to sense things beyond his line of sight and hiding his own aura, something Gandalf was very firm that Harry needed to learn. Gandalf, in turn, would have a bit of an easier time learning Harry's spells, for the most part anyway. He could track the magical energies as Harry formed them and could already duplicate a few of the pranks spells he had seen Harry use, though he could not transfigure or conjure. Those skills lay well outside his area as a follower of Manwe and Varda rather than Aule, or rather, Mahal, as the dwarves called him.

Two days travel and training found them once more making camp, though they were noticeably closer to the Misty Mountains then they had been. Currently they were travelling along a low ravine between hills. It was somewhat less strenuous travel than going over the hills would be, though the terrain was tougher since there were far more trees in the ravine than on the hills leading up to the Misty Mountains. This had forced them to go in single file several times, and the scouts to either side had not been able to move very far away from the rest of the group before losing them in the trees.

After the dwarves and their companions had finished training, they sat around the fire as the cooks fought their nightly battle against Bombur while trying to finish the night's meal. The fire was a low one since they were wary of running into any other trolls, or worse, orcs in the area, but Bilbo had nabbed two rabbits that afternoon, adding some meat to the meal.

Harry sat leaning back against one of the rucksacks as he winced, massaging his thigh and knee. Thorin had thumped him a good one with the flat of his training blade, and the wound was only now slowly disappearing. It was ironic that his magic could so quickly deal with such small wounds, yet the scars on his hands and chest remained. _Curse scars are like that, I guess,_ Harry thought ruefully, touching his lightning bolt scar lightly for a moment. _Then again, even those scars are nothing to the pain inside._

Feeling his thoughts turn dark at that moment, Harry looked up from his thigh and was about to start up another prank war with Fili and Kili when one of the other dwarves, Oin, came over to him holding something in his hand. "Er, Mr. Potter…" the dwarf began.

"Just Harry, please, Oin. I think after slaying three trolls and so many day on the road together we're well past the last name stage," Harry quipped, smiling both at the dwarf's odd formality and at the interruption.

"Heh, well, it's good you mentioned the trolls since that were what I wanted to talk to ya about. Didn't know if you noticed at the time, but that troll whose arm ya smashed, it had me dead ta rights, Harry." Oin actually shivered a moment. "I swear I saw me life flashing before me eyes, and t'was far too short a journey!" He coughed, looking down at his beard for a moment, which Harry noticed was white and rather shorter than most of the others', before thrusting out his hand. "Anyway, I remember you and Gandalf smoking the morning we left Bag End, but haven't seen ya do so since, so I figured this might help you."

Harry took the object Oin held out to him. It was a crude but decently made pipe, shorter than Gandalf's, with a far simpler end to it, without the carvings that adorned Gandalf's. He put it to his mouth and found the end of it actually tasted of pine, which he thought would add a bit to the pleasure of the smoke.

"Thank you for the gift Oin, but you should know that such things between friends aren't necessary." Harry grinned suddenly, gesturing past Oin to where Gloin had turned to watch his brother and the human. "On the other hand, if you could convince your brother to share some of his mead…"

Oin laughed, as did the other dwarves. "If he is going to share with anyone it should be his own brother!" Oin said addressing Gloin.

"Away with the lot of you! You know this is the last mead we've got, and I'll not be sharing it with anyone until we're within sight of the Lonely Mountain! That'll be a moment worthy of celebration!" Gloin bellowed, getting to his feet and making for his brother, one fist raised in mock-threat. "And as for you, you mead thief, you've stolen enough of it from me over the years to equal your share of the treasure when we finish this journey!"

Watching the two brothers fall into a familial argument, Harry leaned back once more, as Gandalf moved over to him with Thorin, holding a bag of pipe-weed. A moment later the three of them were smoking away on their pipes.

Harry smiled lazily, watching his smoke be turned into shapes of ships and animals under Gandalf's magic. He tried to do the same thing, reaching out to control the air with his magic and will rather than with a specific spell, but Gandalf merely chuckled, beating off his attempts with ease. Despite that defeat, however, Harry felt this was a most pleasant way to end the day.

 **OOOOOOO**

 **"They are going towards the Misty mountains!"** growled a rangy orc, dropping out of the saddle of his mount as several others scattered around him. The rest of his hunting band followed his example quickly, examining the dead trolls.

The fact two of those trolls had been killed before they were turned to stone was worrying, but they still had a task to do. **"Send word to all the ranging packs: they are to join us here. Once we are all gathered we will go after them with all speed! We must take them before they reach the cursed house of the filthy half-elf!"**

 **OOOOOOO**

The next day Gandalf let drop a bit of a revelation as they were once more riding along the ravine in single file. "Has it occurred to you, young Harry, that there are a few fast and dirty rules of magic that you mentioned in your world that remain the case here, only more so?"

"We've talked about those before, Gandalf. You've mentioned a few of them: conservation of water, air, that kind of thing," Harry said from around the top of his new pipe. Even if he didn't actually like smoking all that much, he was not going to turn down the gift, and perhaps he would acquire a taste for it. Certainly it seemed the normal thing to do around here.

"You mentioned that this headmaster, he who thought himself wise," Gandalf started, his teeth gritting on the term. He did **not** like talking about that man. The very idea of someone in such a position of power doing nothing with that power and letting someone else do all his fighting for him was abhorrent to Gandalf. "That he lived for, what was it, 170 years? And was still spry?"

"Quite spry, yes," Harry said with a nod. "But he wasn't the oldest witch or wizard I knew of. There was another one, Griselda, I think her name was. She was at least 100 years older than that."

Gandalf nodded. "How old do you think I am?"

"As old as dirt?" Harry asked, winking at the older man.

Gandalf chuckled. "Not quite."

 _Although you're closer than you might think,_ he thought, amused. After all, Gandalf, or Oronin, had been among those who sang the song of this world. He could remember it even now, the Great Song. He could remember the discordant note introduced by Melkor, then how the music changed as Eru Ilúvatar turned that darkness to his own design, and thus the song became even fuller, more vibrant and alive. _Yet at the same time, darkness and sin was built into the very world from that moment on. I sometimes wonder if Eru Ilúvatar intended that as well, or simply did not understand what it would entail for mortal beings upon this world._

Shaking himself out of his memories, Gandalf went on in a lower voice, conjuring up a bit of magic to keep their words from moving beyond a small sphere which neatly encompassed the two wizards and their mounts. "You see, there is a connection between magic and lifespan, young Harry. Elves are inherently magical to a degree that no other race can even come close to, and can live practically forever. There are thousands of elves in the Land beyond Belegaer that remember all of the ages of this world."

Gandalf gestured down to himself. "As for myself, I may look human, but I have even more magic than most elves save those of the First-born who have made a study of it. And I will live until my task is done as you see me, unchanging." He laughed suddenly, a gay, almost young sound that at the same time spoke of experience somehow in a way Harry could not understand. "Except for a few more gray hairs, a bit more dirt on the robe, perhaps even a scar here and there. Such things help to remember what you have done and seen, and I would not be without them."

He went on more seriously, however, after his brief moment of humor. "But you are magical to a degree that no human has ever been. You could live for hundreds upon hundreds of years, even more than a Numenorean."

"The Numenoreans? You've mentioned the sinking of an island of that name, and the bending of the world by Eru Ilúvatar. But this is the first time you've mentioned that the people there lived longer than other humans," Harry said, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Yes, that never came out, did it? But in any event, it is so. They live far longer than mere normal men, and your lifespan could possibly exceed theirs."

"That's, that's interesting." _As is the fact you just used present tense to describe them. I wonder what that could mean?_ Harry thought.

"I say this for a reason, Harry," Gandalf said, moving his horse closer to Harry's pony, reaching over and down to the younger man's shoulder, squeezing it. "There is a sadness in you, a grief that eats at you. It comes through to those about you at times despite your normal japery."

Harry stiffened, and his mouth quirked into a rictus of a smile as if he were about to say something that would have either diffused the moment or attempted to cover his grief with some joke or other. But Gandalf's stare halted him. "I know it, and you have not yet healed. But I ask you to at least be open to the possibility of healing in time. You do not do those you loved any justice by holding on to your grief, Harry Potter. Let the grief go and keep the memories. Live for them; don't live your life in grief."

Harry stared at him for a moment before nodding his head slowly and turning away, hurrying his pony along. From behind Gandalf, Balin sighed, moving up to join the wizard. While he had been unable to hear anything the two said, the young human's face was practically an open book to one of his years. "He lost his One, I can feel it. That kind of pain will never go away, Gandalf," he said sadly.

"Humans do not have 'Ones' as you dwarves do. I often think it would be better all-around if humans do, but they do not. And even you dwarves can move past that pain, can you not? Still feeling it, but not letting it hurl you into death," Gandalf asked, looking over at Balin shrewdly.

Balin slowly nodded, his eyes far away, remembering happier times. "Aye, we can that. I'd recommend staying away from him for the rest of the day though. Let Harry settle down again."

"Teach your grandfather to dig coal," Gandalf said in dwarfish, and Balin surprised himself by laughing.

The next day the trip seemed normal until around midday, when the dwarf riding scout downhill of the column turned up to them fast, coming through the woods with more haste than he normally would, pulling his pony to a stop quickly at the front of the column where Harry, Thorin, and Gandalf were riding. "There's something coming up from the south of us. It's coming fast, whatever it is, and there's some kind of banging I heard a time or two, like wood smacking into wood. It's not in sight yet, but it will be soon."

Thorin looked around, thinking quickly. It wasn't an ideal spot, but if Kili was right they wouldn't be able to evade something moving at that speed. "Take the ponies over there," he ordered, gesturing to a large rocky outcropping uphill from their current position. "Ori, Nori, take care of them. The rest of you get armed."

"There is no such thing as coincidence," Gandalf said grimly as he clambered off his horse, grabbing his staff and his new sword. It wasn't glowing yet, but if there was an enemy out there it soon would. "This cannot be coincidence."

Harry frowned, one hand on the hilt of his sword, his other twitching occasionally at his side as he thought of what spells to use. Gandalf caught that and shook his head quickly. "Wait until my sword is glowing, at the very least."

Harry nodded, but he was not prepared for the sight that came over the low rise to the trail they were on, racing through the trees towards them. "What the…"

It was a sled of some kind, small and of light but durable construction, made mostly of wood. It was being pulled by twelve giant rabbits, rabbits of a size that standing on their hind legs their ears reached Bilbo's shoulders. On the back of the contraption was a man who had to be another wizard.

"Radagast!" Gandalf exclaimed, waving his hands in the air quickly. "He's a friend; let him approach."

"You told your order about our movements, Gandalf?!" Thorin exclaimed, glaring over at the wizard.

"No, I did not, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said, glaring at the dwarf, his beard bristling. "But those of my order have ways of finding one another that have nothing whatsoever to do with prior knowledge of our movement."

By this point Radagast had crisscrossed through the trees towards them. His sled came to a halt just a little lower on the incline of the hill they were on then the majority of the column. "Gandalf! I've been looking for you."

Harry looked at the newcomer with his head cocked to one side. He was younger looking than Gandalf, or perhaps simply not as weathered as the gray wizard. He wore brown: brown cloak, brown pants, and a brown undershirt and hat. His beard wasn't as long as Gandalf's and was bushy and bristling, and it also seemingly had life within it. _There's a bird in his hat, and is that a porcupine or squirrel in his beard?_ Twigs and other things stuck out here and there, along with flowers blooming from a few of them.

"Gandalf," Harry said thoughtfully as Gandalf got down from his horse and moved toward the newcomer. "Is there something you want to tell me about your Order of the Sacred Fire? Perhaps what its fueled by, a certain weed methinks, or perhaps some variety of mushrooms?"

"Yes well, this is Radagast. He is an excellent Wizard it his own way of things, though what he is doing here I don't know," Gandalf said in a low tone. "He's not a fighter by any means, but his knowledge of forest and animal is matchless."

Nearing his fellow wizard Gandalf's eyes narrowed behind his bushy brows. Holding out his hand towards Radagast he stared at the other man. "You're sweating, Radagast," he said softly. "What is it that has brought you so far from home?"

Glancing behind Gandalf's shoulder Radagast took in all the dwarves, nodded companionably to them, then pulled Gandalf to the back of his sled. "Something is stirring, Gandalf. Some darkness is upon my forest."

Harry and Thorin had moved up to take part in the conversation. Gandalf was about to wave them both off, then thought better of it, waving them to join them instead. Radagast blinked at that, looking over at the dwarf and the young human before his eyes widened in surprise at something he saw in Harry. "Gandalf, what have you found!?"

"I rather think we just sort of found one another. Though maybe these higher powers that you two serve might have a hand in that," Harry said shrugging his shoulders. "Not certain how I feel about that if it is indeed the case."

Radagast took this with surprising aplomb, simply nodding his head and then turning back to Gandalf. "I've been looking for you, Gandalf. Something is…" he trailed off for a moment. "Er, wait a moment. I had it; it was on the tip of my tongue…"

Harry and Thorin watched as the apparently scatter-brained wizard pulled a stick insect out of his mouth. However when he began to talk once more he was far more serious. Harry thought it was as if he had needed a moment of revelry before turning to more serious matters. "There is a sickness in the Greenwood, Gandalf, a sickness in the air and the earth. The air is foul with decay. Trees and plants are turning dark, evil of soul or simply dying."

"Greenwood?" Harry asked Thorin out of the corner of his mouth.

"An ancient name for Mirkwood, from before the fall of Erebor," Thorin replied, his eyes narrowed as he leaned forward.

Radagast had continued speaking while Harry asked his question, and was now answering a question from Gandalf. "Spiders, Gandalf. Giant spiders the size of a man, some foul get of Ungoliant, or I'm not a wizard."

"I thought Ungoliant was dead?" Harry interrupted, moving forward with Thorin. "Killed by the followers of Morgoth after they turned on one another."

"Alas no, Harry," Gandalf said while Radagast blinked, seemingly having forgotten he and his brother wizard were not alone in this discussion. "Ungoliant fled from Morgoth's Balrogs, and where she finally died none know, though it is known that before she passed she sired many species of giant spiders."

Harry frowned at that, exchanging a glance with Thorin, but Radagast spoke up once more preventing any further questions just yet. "I followed the initial infestation's trail. They came from Dol Goldur, Gandalf!"

At the name Dol Goldur it was as if a shadow had passed over the small clearing, blotting out the sun for a moment. All of them felt it, but it was Gandalf who replied. "Dol Goldur? That fortress is abandoned…"

"No Gandalf… it is not. There is a power there. The Necromancer, you've heard of him, surely? He's back, or perhaps never left. Regardless, he is there, and he is… **powerful**." Radagast shuddered. "As powerful as this one perhaps. He is a shadow of an ancient evil," he said gesturing to Harry. "He was able to summon up ghosts of ancient dead to guard himself, but I still saw him. Such darkness I never wish to feel again," Radagast finished, shivering as if he had been dunked into ice.

"These giant spiders, how prevalent are they in the Northwest of the forest?" Thorin asked, his thoughts centered on what this news meant for his company and quest. Harry remained silent, staring between the two wizards, wondering what this Necromancer was and what his presence meant. Or rather, how it tied into Gandalf, his Order, and the history the old wizard had told him about.

"They have begun to encroach even on Elven lands in the forest, take of that what you will," Radagast said sharply. "The road through the forest might be safe; there are enchantments laid upon it that protect those who stay within its bounds. But those enchantments have become twisted as well, both by the design of Thranduil and by the darkness' growing power. Its corrupting effect goes before even the spiders."

"It would take us months, possibly even a year out of our way to try to go around it," Thorin said, growling the words. "We have no choice but to attempt it!"

"This darkness, can it be expelled?" Harry asked intently. The spells on the path worried him less than the darkness, given how seriously Radagast and Gandalf were taking it.

"We have spells for such, yes," Radagast said. "I did that very thing back in my home of Rhosgobel when the darkness tried to encroach there. Whether you do so or not, I cannot say."

"That's all right, then," Harry said thoughtfully. "I can perform a spell that might be able to do the same thing. It works in my world to see off a monster that feeds off happiness and good emotions, it could work in the same fashion against this encroaching corruption." _Though I don't even know at this point if I'll be able to cast it…_ Harry shrugged off that dark thought, looking over at Gandalf.

"You'll have to show me that spell at some point," Gandalf said musingly. "But still, I highly doubt a merely mortal wizard could gain such power..."

"It is just not the Necromancer, it is what he might be allied with," Radagast said, shaking his head and puffing on his pipe, a long necked, simple-looking thing, irritably. "There is more to it than the spiders or the corruption…"

With that Radagast looked searchingly at Harry and Thorin for a moment before turning back to his sled, reaching into it for a bundle. It was covered by a bit of brown cloth, but when he pulled it back it revealed a sword, a simple, almost crude looking thing all of gray metal. But that was only what it looked like, not like what it felt to those with magic to see it.

Harry flinched away from the thing as Gandalf gasped, but in the younger man's case it wasn't just the magical feel of the thing that had caused him to flinch away, or at least not entirely. Harry's scars burned with the cold, as if they had been doused in ice or something even colder, and he jerked away, cursing for a moment. Luckily the effect didn't spread out beyond the sword very far. Wringing his hands out Harry glared at the sword. "That feels almost like a Dementor, the monsters I mentioned!"

Thorin glared at the thing, his hand going to his sword. "Such abominations should be destroyed!" he said, gritting his teeth. He didn't feel the thing's miasma of evil as the three wizards did, or indeed as humans or even elves would have. Dwarves were hardy folk, and pretty much immune to such influences. Even the mighty rings of power could not change dwarves overmuch, though they could influence the luck of their owners. But he could feel the cold of the grave the blade emitted, and that was enough to tell him what it was.

"What the hell is it?" Harry asked, still staring at the thing, his hands now clenched into fists despite the lingering pain in them.

"A fell blade of Mordor. Such blades were habitually held in the hands of those whose souls have been turned to evil, held from going to their rightful rest both by the mind of their master and their own tainted will…" Gandalf said slowly, not able to turn his eyes away from the blade. Then he looked up at Harry, his eyes compassionate. "They come from beyond the grave, you could almost say, and they partake of the cold of it."

"I take it finding this blade is a VBT, or very bad thing, then?" Harry tried to make a joke, his teeth showing in a rictus grin for a moment, but it fell flat. He did understand what Gandalf had said, however. His scars had been created by a creature much like the one Gandalf was describing, save in Riddle's case he had no master. The fact that being near even the weapon of a similar creature could cause his scars to act up was concerning, but Harry had no idea what to do about it.

"I took this from a ghost which attacked me at Dol Goldur under the command of the Necromancer," Radagast said grimly. "After dispersing it, that was when I saw the Necromancer. I had no choice but to flee at that point, but I was able to take this with me despite the Necromancer's creatures of the air coming after me."

"You did well, my friend. Leave this with me for now. Our company is making for Imladris already. I will show it to Elrond, and he and I will convene the White Council to decide what we should do."

Thorin's eyes narrowed. "This Necromancer seems to be a threat, but not one our company can deal with, Gandalf, and indeed he is not a direct threat to us. Yet I can tell it concerns you greatly. Did you know of this Necromancer before joining up with us?"

Just then the four of them were interrupted by the rear scout, Bofur, coming up at a rapid pace. He looked almost frantic as he pointed over his shoulder, stumbling down the hill of rock, moss, and trees to where the four had moved to talk privately away from the rest of the company. "We've got wolves out there somewhere; you'll be able to hear them in a minute! And they are moving right along our back-trail!"

A second after he said that a wolf came over the crest of the hill behind them, moving quickly through the small gorge they had been following before meeting with Radagast. It was struck through the eye by an arrow from Bilbo, but the giant wolf, large as a horse, had a rider. The rider, a small goblin, rolled as his mount collapsed under him but was brained almost at once by Ori.

Gulping, Bofur shrugged his shoulders. "All right, so they were a lot closer than I thought they were. And a lot bigger too…"

Thorin cursed, staring at the two corpses before looking all around them. "Wargs! They must have trailed myself and Harry from the destruction of their outpost. I would not have thought there would be enough of them that we missed in our attack left alive for them to go looking for trouble, though."

"The White Orc, Thorin," Balin said slowly. "You mentioned his name. If he is alive he'd be looking for you to avenge his lost hand. And we seem to have been found."

Thorin was still looking around at the forest woodlands shaking his head. "We can't fight them here: we're too strung out on this trail, the ground's too uneven to fight from." Wolves could move through terrain like this far better than any two-legged person could, and the trees were far too close here for the dwarves to use their bows. "We have to get some distance!"

"I'll try to lead them off for you," Radagast said.

"They will catch you; those are Gundabad wargs out there!" Gandalf shouted, also looking around in thought.

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits; I'd like to see them try!" Radagast snapped back, and suddenly Harry had no trouble seeing he connection between these two wizards, seeing a fierceness in Radagast that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"I might be able to help, if you're willing to try it, Radagast" Harry said, looking over at Gandalf. "Illusions to cover him with the likeness of our party. Though I have no idea how long they'll remain in place. And there's no way I could control conjured animals that far away from me."

"Conjured animals?" Radagast asked intently, his smile becoming something that reminded Harry of Luna Lovegood for a moment, eliciting a grin from Harry.

A moment later Radagast's sled was racing off through the woodland, banging and scrapping its way over rocks and through trees as Radagast shouted something aloud in dwarfish, a list of words that should not be spoken in polite company. Instead of the eight rabbits that had previously been pulling his sled, there were now sixteen, all of them obeying his commands just like the originals. Around him were harts, racing through the woods with him like an honor guard. Each of them in turn was covered by an illusion of a dwarf on a pony.

Harry breathed deeply, the effort of creating such lifelike animals, and imbuing them with enough magic to last for a few hours had taken it out of him for a moment. "I hope that works."

"Hah, never fear my young friend! Radagast will lead them a merry chase!" Gandalf said, helping Harry over to his pony while Thorin organized the others.

Ponies were sure footed creatures who could subsist off the land far more easily than most horses, and intelligent to boot. But they were not fast, especially in terrain like this. Nonetheless, the party broke out of the ravine out onto a flat top of the hill without running into further enemies.

However not all of the warg-riders had been fooled by Radagast. Several of them had remained on the trail, coming out of the ravine after the dwarves. Bilbo, riding at the back of the column, saw them and hissed a warning. The dwarves all hid among the scattered rocks of white and gray stone scattered around the hillside, while Bilbo and Fili readied their bows just in case.

Hiding with his pony under a Mufilatio with Gandalf and Dwalin, Harry smacked his forehead. "Damnit, scent. The wargs didn't smell my illusions."

"I would think that the smell of Radagast and his rabbits would have driven the wargs to chase them in any event, Harry. Don't beat yourself over the head with it; it's not your fault," Gandalf muttered, summoning up a bit of air. "Nonetheless, that gives me an idea." He began to work the air with the skill of an artist, pulling the scent of the dwarves and their ponies away from the wargs, letting the trail disappear in front of them.

However, before he could do so entirely one of the wargs spotted Ori. He had hidden in a small dip in the land between two rocks hidden from the first few wargs, but not after they had begun sniffing all around. It howled, calling its pack to the hunt and rocketed towards the young dwarf's position.

Before it could attack him, however, two arrows flew, and rider and warg both fell dead to arrows through the eye.

Despite that, the damage was done, the beast's howl having already summoned its fellows. Answering howls resounded from the ravine and the hills all around the dwarves' current position.

Nearer to hand the warg-riders in view turned and raced for Ori and their pack-mates' killers. The three of them broke cover, racing away, and the rest of the party soon followed, coming together quickly.

"That's torn it, we'll have to fight! Fili, Kili, any large rock we can put our backs to?" Thorin shouted over the ever increasing noise of their pursuers.

"Over there!" Kili shouted, urging his mule forward, though the animal needed little urging, hearing the dirge of the wargs behind them. The group saw where he was pointing, a large rocky outcropping about two hundred feet away and about two stories tall, with wide sides. It looked like a decent place to make a stand.

Harry turned once to send a wide area cutting spell behind them, and Gandalf turned as well, lashing out with his own blast of air pressure which hurled clumps of their assailants away, but not enough to stop them, though they became more circumspect for a time, running around the group as far as they could while keeping an eye on them. Harry estimated the two magic attacks had killed seven or nine of the attackers, but there were still at least forty warg-riders around them.

They didn't close yet, however, and the company made for the rock Kili had spotted. Fili immediately climbed up the rock face with Bilbo following. The two archers exchanged a glance, then stared out past the warg-riders the others could see to the mass still coming out of the woodlands. "Gandalf was right. Running was the only thing we could do, but ah well. It's been nice knowing you, Bilbo."

"It's been an adventure knowing you as well, Fili, but don't give up just yet! We're still alive, after all." So saying Bilbo drew back his hobbit bow, letting fly. A Warg Rider fell off his beast, an arrow through its throat. _I was aiming for its chest, but that will do._ "And besides, we have two wizards with us. If they can't change the odds against us I don't know what power in this world could!"

"Harry, we need those shields now!" Thorin barked, then began to order the dwarves around into a semi-circle.

Harry nodded and began to conjure up the shields. Soon all of the dwarves save Ori, Dwalin, Thorin, and Kili had shields. Those four stood behind the other dwarves who grabbed up the shields, pulling out their swords. The mules were pressed to the rock, and Gandalf muttered something as he moved among them. Each mule stilled as if under a spell, and the dwarves formed a shield wall in a semi-circle around the rock.

"Here they come!" shouted Fili from above as he and Bilbo began to duel with some archers among the warg-riders. The two archers moved around on top of the rock, but it was Gandalf who provided most of their protection. Every time the enemy launched arrows he would raise his staff and a wind would pick up, blowing the arrows off-course. Then he would lower it, and the two archers would be able to aim true.

"Call it out, Thorin!" Harry shouted over the din of the approaching wolves and their rider's bellows as he moved to join Dwalin and the others, back of the line.

Thorin hopped up onto the side of the rocky outcropping to see the battle, while above them Bilbo's next arrow took one of the wolves in the eye, dumping it to the ground, crushing its rider, and taking out another. Fili's shot didn't do as well, taking out one of the riders with an arrow through the chest, hurling him off his warg, but the warg kept on coming, baying for blood.

Harry waited his magic crackling around one hand behind his body as he stared at the oncoming group of around forty or so. They were trying to spread out, but Gandalf was having none of it. He waved his hand and cracks of air lashed out from the top of his staff, swirling through the air like small hurricanes, lashing out and tossing them back occasionally or just blocking their arrows. The attackers seemingly paused for a moment, taking that and the defense of the dwarves in, then more of them came out of the woods, charging forward to join the group already present.

Just as the first of the wolves were about to impact the line of shield bearing dwarves Thorin shouted aloud, and those shields clanked together then down onto the ground as the dwarves holding them huddled down behind them. "Now, Harry!" Harry cast his spells, and the charge slammed home onto the shield wall.

The wargs were large and should have been able to blast through the dwarves just like the troll clubs Dwalin had been worried about when Harry first described the shield wall. But thanks to Harry's spells on the shields, that didn't happen. Instead, the chaotic charge shattered, bouncing away in places as the wolves smashed off the shields, turning in place, snarling at one another, or just whimpering in pain as if they had run into wall.

Thorin shouted once more. "Loose and stab!"

At that Harry undid the spells and the dwarves holding the shields rose up, pressing the wargs and dismounted goblins back, off-balance. Now that the momentum of their charge was gone, the dwarves were strong enough to overcome the warg's size, and goblins were weaker than dwarves by far. The dwarves of the line now began stabbing forward with their swords. Several wargs and goblins died immediately, and more fell back.

"Now move apart!" Thorin shouted, racing forward. At that command the dwarves holding the line parted slightly, while the second line of the charging attackers tried to get itself under control. Thorin and the others, including Harry, charged through.

Harry ran a dismounted goblin through the chest, turning to cast a point blank cutting spell at a warg recovering slowly from the impact with the unbreakable shield wall. He then ducked under a blade aimed for his head, dodged another spear thrust for his heart, and cut its owner down while Dwalin cut the goblin sword wielder down before killing two wounded wargs in quick succession.

Nearby Kili and Thorin fought, the older Oakenshield's blade glowing as he hacked at the goblins, who gasped and snarled trying to get away from the fell blade as they shouted imprecations in their own tongue. Kili, too, held his own, his sword flashing faster as he protected his uncle's side. Ori stood on Thorin's other side, not as lethal as the two kinsmen, but his blows had a monstrous power to them. Once, his hammer flung a warg back several dozen paces from the force of the blow to the head.

"More wargs incoming!" shouted Bilbo. "Get back, Thorin!"

"Back!" Thorin bellowed, and he and his team retreated, pulling back behind the shield line. Without any order from Thorin that shield line shrank once more, their shields clanking into place.

"That was magnificent!" Harry shouted, backing away further and joining Gandalf on the small step of the rocky outcropping. Once there he began to lash the attackers with spells.

First he tried to use illusions, conjuring up a group of dwarves trying to run off, but it didn't seem to work on the wargs. Harry couldn't conjure up smells to go with the illusions quickly enough for them to fool the animals' senses, and the goblins learned quickly to follow their beasts' lead. Worse, the orcs and wargs dealt with his following attempt of conjured animals quickly, so quickly Harry didn't really want to use that attack again: he'd feel sorry for the little critters.

How long the battle went on, Harry didn't know. Goblin reinforcements came out from the woods several more times, joining the battle, adding to the attackers numbers. Harry estimated there were at least three-hundred or so wargs and goblins out there.

They couldn't seem to get a handle on the shield tactics, and whenever Thorin and his group of warriors charged out, they positively slaughtered the enemy for a few moments before retreating behind the shields again. The other dwarves in that shield wall also did some damage when they let loose with their short swords.

At one point Harry nearly fell, stumbling over a downed goblin as an orc, larger than the goblins by far, attacked him. He stared at the sword coming for his chest. _At least I'll see Hermione soon this way…_

Then Thorin was there, cutting the orc in half at the waist before pulling up Harry in a grip of iron. "Move, you foolish Man, move!" With that the two of them once more retreated behind the shield wall with the others.

However, eventually the attacking goblins got over their own bloodlust and began to circle the group, launching arrow upon arrow at them. In return Gandalf defended the company's position from the arrows while Harry, Bilbo and Fili fired back. Harry's attack spells did a lot of damage, but the attackers learned quickly to not bunch up, constantly moving around the group on their wargs so he couldn't kill more than two of them with any one spell..

Feeling himself weaken, Harry looked down at Gandalf. He was intent on asking him if the older wizard had any idea how to get out of this, but he saw the older wizard suddenly smile. "Ah, I believe help is about to arrive."

Cocking an eyebrow, Harry turned his attention back to the battle ,only to watch as something new was added to the battlefield. Arrows flew from one side of the battle, impacting the group of orcs and goblins, smashing several dozen of them out of the saddle in as many seconds. Then sixty of what could only be elves charged into view over the ridgeline, firing arrows as they came, then closing with sword and lance to finish those their arrow barrage hadn't killed.

The dwarves stood watching this activity behind the pile of corpses they had made, waiting. Soon enough the elves had finished off the warg-riders, and one of them left the others behind, moving his horse daintily through the littered corpses before halting beyond the ring of dead the dwarves had caused, the bodies too thick for his horse to traverse safely.

He pulled off his helmet revealing an aquiline face of middle years with long straight brown hair draping down his neck and shoulders. His ears were pointed, rising up out of his hair, and his eyes were warm as he gazed upon Gandalf. "Mithrandir, so you are the reason orcs and their ilk dare to come so close to my realm?"

Frowning, Harry hit the elf with a spell, which the man seemed to sense, his hand flying down to his sword. "Peace, Elrond. My rude friend here merely used a translation spell on you." Gandalf said quickly as both elves and dwarves bristled.

"Sorry if you took offense, but where I come from its rude to speak in a language not everyone in the conversation can follow," Harry said glibly, casting the same spell on the nearest dwarves, who smirked at his comment.

"I see you found the strange magic user who has been making so much noise in the ether of late, Mithrandir," Elrond said dryly, though his mouth twitched as the human seemingly addressed him in perfect Elven. "Welcome, unknown one, to Middle Earth. Though you travel in odd company for a seeming-human."

"I am Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain, Lord Elrond. Harry Potter is my ally and friend, Lord Elrond," Thorin said formally, hiding a smil by kneeling to clean his blade, feeling that Harry's translation spell was getting up the elf's nose enough at the moment. This thought was compounded as Elrond looked amazed at his own speaking of the Elven tongue. "He came to Middle Earth in great distress, and I aided him in getting onto his feet. Since then we have become friends and travel together."

"And why would thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and an unknown human wizard be traveling with you, Mithrandir? I have to wonder if perhaps you have overstepped yourself," Elrond said in the trade tongue, staring hard at Gandalf, before allowing a faint smile to appear on his face as he looked at Harry and the dwarves. "Yet nonetheless, you and your company, Thorin, and you, Mithrandir, are welcome in Imladris. Follow us and you will have as much rest and welcome as you would allow us to give."

With that Elrond turned away, and the dwarves, after looking at one another for a few moments, gathered their packs and once more climbed into the saddle to follow the elves.

 **End chapter**

* * *

Originally I had intended to have this chapter cover the events in Rivendell, but looking at the notes I had on that bit, I felt I was not giving enough attention to all the undercurrents, and certainly not to the first meeting between Harry, Galadriel and Saruman. So that will all happen in the next chapter. But having realized that, I have to think about how I want to play that aspect once more so this story will not appear in July's poll. Sorry, need to think about that, do some more research, and think about how I want to play the difference between Harry's magic and those of the Istari going forward. Also need to seriously think about how to portray Saruman, need to make certain of a few facts of his fall from grace etc.

The poll here and over on my Pat R on page is up now, but will be closed on the tenth of July. That will give me the rest of the month to work on the stories which win the polls. Those first ten days I will use to work on the One Piece/Ranma crossover that is my current Pat R only exclusive work, as well as maybe writing up an omake. If you wish to have access to those works and a larger voice in what stories I pursue please go over and sign up. I will also be using those days to follow up on reviews. I realize I've been falling behind on those somewhat in a few of my stories, and I apologize but I hope to turn that around a bit in the next few days.


	5. Chapter 5

**Last Name's not Tolkien and I'm a guy.**

So, once more the monthly poll went very differently from here in comparison to over on Patty ron. Here on fanfic this story took the poll (Master Splinter voice: hah, I tell a funny) position with 282. BUuuuut, it only took in 332 votes over on Patty ron. However, since it is one of the stories which hasn't been updated in a long time which is still alive, I added in my own 200 votes to it, giving it a total of 814. in second place here was Anything Goes Game Changer, with 260. It won 326 votes over on Patty. This gave it a total of 586.

third place here was Gods and Devils, again quite close, with 241. Elsewhere it brought in more votes than Game changer at 332. This gave it a total of 573.

And in fourth place, but **first** over on Patty Ron, was  Semblance of Hope. On fanfic it only brought in 157, but here it blew away the competition, with 770. This gave it a total of 927, making it the winner.

 **However,** because Fate Touched hasn't been updated in a while, and I put my own votes toward it, I then put up another poll over on Patty Ron between Fate Touched and what i call teaser chapters, one off story starters which I post over there. If you want to see more, sign up and you'll get them and omakes from my  Magic of the Force universe where I send Harry and co. back to Hogwarts. Thankfully for those of you looking forward to this chapter, it won this second poll with 60% of the votes.

Warning this has not been betaed. I have a beta reader set up for the future of this story when we get to the dwarven realms, but I lack a real small mistakes guy for this story. If you think you can do the job, and wish to earn this story 10 points per chapter you look at to put towards your story choice of that month, pm me.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: A Meeting Unforeseen**

As they traveled to Rivendell Harry had fallen back from the forefront of the column, wishing to touch base with each of the dwarves in turn. He was amused to note that Thorin did the same thing, clapping shoulders and trading jokes with every dwarf in the column as well as Bilbo. He spent several minutes speaking quietly to Bilbo in fact, well away from Gandalf and their erstwhile host. Whether they were really out of hearing range Harry couldn't say, but it was evident that Thorin was asking some questions of Bilbo about elves in general and Elrond in particular.

Eventually however Thorin returned to the front of the column and spoke politely if succinctly with Elrond as Gandalf looked on, puffing once more on his pipe. Harry did not, preferring to let Elrond and Thorin talk about the company's journey and various issues without muddying the conversation with his own. It was evident however that Elrond, for all his politeness and welcome of them, was being eaten alive by curiosity of the magic using yet seeming mortal young man. Still, his sense of propriety seemed to be in control, and he refrained from looking toward Harry more than a dozen or so times before they came to the edge of Rivendell itself.

This edge was not marked out as far as the dwarves could tell, but Harry felt it, like a subtle touch to his skin, making his hair stand on end. He glanced sharply at Gandalf and Elrond, only to find them both looking at him, the ancient wizard with a humorous quirk to his mouth around his pipe and Elrond, a searching look to his eyes. Yet as he and Harry locked eyes, that look faded and he smiled. "Be welcome, one and all to Imladris, or Rivendell as Men call it."

That was the only sign of any habitation they saw for some time, until the column came through a crack in the hill to discover the path overlooked a hidden valley. The valley itself was wide, going on as far as Harry could see, filled with trees from one end to another. Yet here and there among those trees was an interweaving community of some size, with houses, two, three and even four sory sprawling mansions of stone built here and there, not fighting the nature around them, but working with them to a certain degree.

There was also the sound of water, not just from within the valley but from one edge of it, and looking in that direction Harry could see another side of the valley at the edge of his sight was protected further by a wide river. Yet behind that, there were fountains, visible even from here, tinny pools of deep water splashing one into another. And on the breeze there was song, not just voices, though the quality of those voices would have astonished Harry had he any ear for music. But no, there were wood instruments, a series of flutes and many, many stringed instrument working in chorus, their song filling the valley from one end to another.

Again as the sounds of the valley began to flow gently over them Harry felt the touch of magic. It was a kind he had never seen before, a softer, gentler side of Gandalf's air magic perhaps. Regardless, Harry knew suddenly with the sort of intuitive grasp of magic that had always irritated Hermione and his more bookish friends, that the magic of the valley would repel anything of the dark. So long as that first defense and the power behind but yet not part of that music was there, this valley would remain clean of the taint of evil.

"This is my home Thorin Oakenshield and company, so long as you remain within this valley you are under my protection and that of my people. No evil can come within this valley, save that within you." Elrond said, his voice somehow even more formal than they had been when he initially welcomed them into the valley, and in Elvish this time, since he knew that Harry and many of the dwarves could now understand his native tongue.

His eyes flashed between Thorin and Harry in particular for some reason, searching, judging. What he was searching for Harry had no idea, but he seemed satisfied, as he turned away and gestured the company to follow him. they did so, their ponies prancing now beside the taller horses of the elves, the sound and feel of the valley working with the magic of the elves to make them nearly giddy.

Bilbo wasn't much better, beaming around him happily as the feeling of welcome worked on him. Harry could feel it too, but the magic of the valley couldn't quite get a grip on him, though the feeling of the place did bring a faint smile to his face. The dwarves in contrast seemed almost immune to both magic and the feeling the music and valley evoked, looking around in some distrust. But a barked word from Thorin had Fili and Kili moving through the company, reminding all and sundry to be on their best behavior. They especially reminded Dwalin several times, Harry noticed, amused.

Soon they were lead through the valley and over a small stone bridge and into what looked like a large cobbled square. There servants came out, dressed in flowing robes of green and white. They bowed quickly to Elrond and Gandalf, then moved forward taking their horses and leading them off.

After a few commands in Elvish that Thorin and Harry could follow thanks to his spell, Elrond turned to Thorin. "My servants here will tend to your animals, while you and your friends are shown to the bathing areas. By the time you are done there, we will have laid out clean clothing for you all if you wish, and I will send another servant to lead you to my dining hall. Time enough for more serious discussions this evening after we have all been fed and watered."

"Is that your way of telling us we stink?" Harry asked while the dwarves grumbled and Bilbo looked like he was about to swoon.

"In a word, yes," Gandalf said responding in kind and causing Harry to laugh as Elrond, and more obviously his servants, looked pained. "And if you do not, I certainly do. Moreover I am certain a bath and a nice bearding will put as all in better moods."

Harry held up his hand conceding the point. Each of the guests were shown to a separate room with their own personal bathing areas, something every dwarf approved of, being rather prudish about nakedness even with other men. Harry, for his part just stared at the bath, which reminded him of what he had seen of the Prefect's bath in Hogwarts, complete with hot water and numerous types of soap. _Pity it seems to be missing the mermaids though. Ah well, one can't have everything._

Gingerly pulling off his clothing and setting it all aside, Harry winced as he finally registered that yes, he did kind of stink. It had been several weeks since he had arrived in this world, and he had probably been rather ripe when he arrived to boot. Once naked he slowly lowered himself into the bath, grimacing then smiling as the heat of the water first stung then began to work at his muscles in a way he hadn't even realized he needed. With a whoop he dived forward, fully immersing himself.

Once he realized he was beginning to prune Harry exited the bath with visible reluctance, making certain he had cleaned his hair and body as much as possible. Outside the bathing area he found a servant had indeed come by with some clothing for him. It consisted of dark brown leather pants, a green shirt and a leather jerkin to go over it. Overall he looked more like one of the locals than he had since arriving, and Harry idly wondered what the elves would make of the zipper on the pants he had been wearing under his robes during the battle in the ministry.

The memory of that went through him once more and again Harry saw the faces of the friends he had left behind, the ones he knew had died Hermione's face most prominent of all. Gritting his teeth Harry threw his grief back down to where he kept it once again, concentrating instead on his face in the mirror set onto one wall. His hair was longer now down to his shoulder, and the scar on his face had healed far better than the ones on his hands and forearms. It was now a thin, clearly healed thing, while the ones on his hands still looked new and painful. The scars elsewhere were somewhere in between.

Now satisfied with his appearance Harry exited the room and went looking for Thorin. He found him quickly enough coming out of his own room. Thorin too had changed his clothing, though he had ruined that by putting his armor on over his new clothing once more, and then his cloak over that. He didn't have his new sword tied to his side though, which Harry thought was as mush a concession as Harry was going to get from the black-haired dwarf. Thorin had however taken pains on his hair and beard, which was much shinier and more cared for than Harry had seen before, and he seemed to be smiling somewhere behind that beard too.

The two men nodded to one another and began to walk down the hall side by side. "So," Harry said as they came to an intersection, breaking the companionable silence. "I know I shouldn't have to ask, but you're not going to fly off the handle here are you? I know you have reasons to hate elves, and I could see earlier that this place makes you uneasy for some reason but…"

Thorin chucked. "No I've had my bit of adventure for the day. Even I can see that is would be best not to anger an Elven lord in the seat of his power if I can but help it. Besides, you and Gandalf were right, we'll need his help if we are to succeed in our quest."

From a nearby doorway Balin walked out, joined quickly by Fili. As Thorin's closest relative Fili was his designated heir, and Thorin tended to push him to join any discussion about their plans going forward. He was also somewhat more diplomatic than Thorin tended to be, and thorin had requested he join Balin, his other advisor, for this discussion.

The five of them stood in the hall, talking quietly and looking around them watching as the others gathered along the hallway. Once they were, they were led off by a group of servants to an overlooking second story balcony, which held a single large table and several other servants. The balcony wound around the house, and to the other side of the house was a smaller, cozier alcove, with an equally small table set for six.

There Gandalf and Elrond waited for them, also dressed in different clothing. Gandalf's tattered gray robes had been replaced with a new gray robe, his beard and hair as well cared for as Thorin's. Elrond had left his armor and weapons behind and was dressed like a lord in his raiment. He sat at the front of the table but stood with Gandalf beside him as Harry and the dwarves came around the bend in the balcony, addressing them in the trade tongue. "Welcome to my table friends. Please, sit."

They did so, with Thorin directly across from Elrond and Harry across from Gandalf, with Balin and Fili spaced between them. Once they were sitting servants moved forward with several plates of food.

While they sat, Elrond was once more caught by the young magic user's eyes. Those emerald eyes were such a peculiar color, so vibrant and powerful that they looked like something from a different age. His looks in general however made Elrond wonder if he had come from Ranger stock, which he voiced to Gandalf.

"Ah, no, Harry is something else, which we will need to talk about later. For now, let us concentrate on Thorin's issues." Gandalf replied.

"So you say, yet I can see that the two are intertwined Gandalf," Elrond replied shrewdly. "Nevertheless, let us talk first about what you and your company are doing Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin glared at Elrond for a moment, hearing the note of command in the half-elf's tone and not liking it. Despite that, he nodded to Fili, who began to speak of the mission of the company, telling the story far more clearly and diplomatically than Thorin would have been able to, as well as the reason they had been making for Rivendell in the first place. "The map we have to show the hidden entrance however has much of the instructions to find it written in Moon Runes, a language which none of us can read. Thus Gandalf advised us to speak to you. Needless to say any help you give us in this, and in terms of provisions, will be paid for after we have reclaimed Erebor."

"Reclaimed Erebor?" Elrond said softly, having listened with increasing concern as the story continued. "Reclaim the Lonely Mountain from Smaug, the greatest dragon seen since the Fall of Numenor? You say that as if it was so certain, as if you would not instead rouse Smaug from his rest into a world that has little which could halt his rampage!" He stared at Thorin then over at Gandalf. "And you have gone along with this?"

Gandalf looked back amiably, waving the dwarves and Harry to silence when they seemed to speak. "Whether or not I had gone along with it, Thorin and his fellows would still have gone forward with their plans. And between them and Harry they would have had a chance to succeed regardless of mine or your aid. With it, they are far more likely to succeed in their mission rather than, as you said, igniting Smaug's ire."

Harry laughed incredulously at Gandalf's joke, while Elrond simply stared at him, then over to Harry and Thorin. Seeing the truth of Gandalf's words in Thorin's steely gaze and Balin and Fili's level looks, he sighed, leaning back. "Very well, show me this map, and I will translate it. I also understand that you have found two weapons of my people? Show them to me, and I will name them for you. Beyond that what aid I can give you we will see."

The rest of the discussion went by somewhat more amiably. Elrond informed them of what the map said, and named Gandalf and Thorin's swords, Glamdring and Orcrist, fell blades that in Elrond's words should never have been found as they had been in a troll's lair. Gandalf took that in stride while Thorin was well pleased with his weapon's pedigree, though he tried to hide it.

He was also startled that Elrond made no move to claim the weapons due to their elvish heritage, instead saying that they had found their way into his and Gandalf's hands for a reason. Elrond didn't say it, but he felt the act had the hands of the Valar in it, guiding simple chance so that these weapons were once more found when they were needed.

From there, Gandalf and Harry were surprised that Elrond made no further moves to ask Harry about his past, instead asking about his sword. "For I can see it is of near equal quality to the elven blades Gandalf and Thorin now carry, even if the style is not known to me."

"Yes I suppose the style would be different," Harry replied dryly, before letting Elrond send a servant for the sword of Gryffindor. When it arrived Harry spoke of the blade's special properties, grabbing Elrond's hand as he made to touch the blade. "Don't cut yourself on it, trust me, the poison is incredibly deadly."

"I see…" Elrond mused, staring at the blade then over at Thorin and finally Gandalf. "And you say the poison of this came from a… basilisk… a great land wyrm? If so then yes, if Smaug lives **and** you can get the poison into his body, you might be able to kill him. If, that is, you can survive until the poison does its work. I am no betting man, but even if I were, I would not deign to wager on that outcome."

To his shock however Harry merely laughed. "I've made a habit of beating the odds before this, and at least this time I'm not going to be alone. That counts for quite a bit."

Elrond nodded at that but then seemed to hesitate, staring first at Harry then Thorin before looking over at Gandalf. "Yet even if you should kill Smaug your danger will not end."

"If you are thinking of anyone else trying to come along and take Erebor back when they hear about our victory, don't," Thorin said coolly. "Erebor's defenses might not have prevailed much against the dragon, but I have no doubt we will be able to defend my halls against any normal, land based army given even a short amount of time to work on it."

"That is not what I was speaking of Thorin Oakenshield." Elrond replied sternly then glanced again at Harry and Gandalf before going on. "When I met you I had no inclination to bring this up, but your family is known for a certain malady of the mind when it comes to gold. Your own grandfather suffered from it, slowly going mad and becoming ever more paranoid as the years went on."

As Thorin stiffened, his beard practically bristling Balin too girt his teeth, yet Fili did not rise to the jibe and Elrond simply went on calmly. "Yet added to that is the corrupting effect Smaug will have had on the gold. Dragon's gold is tainted, able to twist and warp the strongest of minds."

"That is why we have our scout, along," Harry said quickly, knowing any response Thorin would have made to that blunt warning would not have been diplomatic at best. "Hobbits apparently are almost immune to such taints, and can even remove the taint eventually. Something," he went on calmly, gesturing to Gandalf, "That even Gandalf had not known until Bilbo mentioned it in response to a few questions."

Elrond fell silent, staring first at Harry then Gandalf, who nodded and explained, while Thorin stewed, his anger cooling as he saw their words allay Elrond's concerns. When Gandalf finished however he could no longer hold himself back. And when he spoke, his voice was pure steel, hammered on the anvil. Yet his anger was not the white hot sort that Elrond's words had first evoked, rather it was like magma moving under the steel of his words from a pain he had dealing with for decades.

"You were right Lord Elrond, my grandfather Thror did fall to the gold madness. Many of my ancestors have done so as well at various times. But I was forced to watch as Thror did so, slowly weakening relations with our neighbors, even the humans of nearby Dale which had long been our staunch allies before the dragon came. I then watched as my king, my grandfather nearly killed himself during the evacuation for a fistful of gold from our horde. Heard how Thror walked willingly into the mines of Khazad Dum alone to demand the orcs turn them over. I saw my father too exhibit some of the madness, before grief in his father's death drowned it out and pulled the dwarven states into war. Then it came back, and he roved off on his own, leaving kith and kin behind in his mad quest."

Glaring into Elrond's eyes, Thorin smacked his chest with one fist so hard Harry knew if he had hit someone else with that much force he might have laid them out. "I saw it all. I know, I **know** , more than you can ever imagine about what gold madness can lead to. And I swear on the honor of my house that I will not fall to the same malady. If I do, I will end myself before I let my actions harm those who follow me."

Lips twitching Harry nodded. "And if he even shows the slightest sign of it, I'd wager a good magically applied smack upside the head would get him out of it."

Thorin rolled his eyes, his serious mien dissipating at his friend's jovial humor as Fili laughed. "Oh yes, and that has worked so often one you when you're in one of your moods?" the two looked at one another than laughed and Elrond, who had sat shocked by the power of Thorin's words and oath, could only smile as well.

From there the conversation segued into what Elrond could tell the dwarves of their routes, and what provisions he could offer, which Fili took over from his uncle. Eventually Balin stepped in to help him write up an actual contract, though Elrond did not seem to think it was needed. While his people couldn't supply much in the way of meat, they could supply lembas, special bread which supposedly could fill someone up in a few bites and keep a person going for days. On top of that they could provide warm weather gear for the mountains, arrows for Kili and Bilbo, and some medical herbs and poultices.

What they could not provide was information on the High Pass through the mountains. "It has been many years since that was in use more often than once a year or less. Further, the goblins of the mountains have grown bold of late, something has stirred them up, though my scouts have not discovered what, and they never move in this direction. My sons and I remember all too clearly the horrors such as them visited upon my wife Celebrain to ever allow such."

Standing, Elrond moved toward a servant who had just arrived, holding a platter. On it was a silver leaf with several small lines of Elven script. "But I can hopefully aid you in another way. This is a symbol of one who is acting with my knowledge and under my protection, a request that they be given leave to pass through Elven lands. I have not exchanged messages of any sort with Thranduil for centuries, but it is hoped that this will convince him and any of his people to let you pass through Mirkwood unmolested."

He made to hand it over to Thorin, but stayed his hand, staring hard at Thorin, Balin and Harry. "But remember this, as I said Thranduil has not communicated with me or any other nation for centuries, the elves of Mirkwood have turned almost entirely inward. This might work, or it might not. The best thing you could do would be to keep on the East Road through the forest, whatever happens."

"We were told the spells protecting it might have been warped." Thorin said, looking between Elrond, Harry and Gandalf as he took the silver leaf on its chain, placing it over his head and tucking it into his undershirt.

Elrond twitched in surprise at that and looked sharply at Gandalf. "Indeed, then tonight's discussion will be even more interesting than it was already shaping up to be."

Gandalf merely nodded at that, and the meal slowly came to an end. Thorin, Fili and Balin, after a glance at Harry and a wave from him indicating he was fine, moved to join the other dwarves. As they did, Elrond stood up once more and gestured for Gandalf to follow him. When Harry moved to join them at a similar gesture from Gandalf, he made no move to stop him. The three of them made their way up a winding staircase set itno the side of one of the largest hills that dotted Lothlorien.

"You were foolish to encourage the dwarves on this mad scheme Gandalf, yet chance seems to have favored you," Elrond said bluntly in the trade tongue, which he had been speaking since he had translated Thorin's map.

"As i said below, with or without me or even Harry here, Thorin and his fellows would march on the mountain, the need to reclaim their homeland borders on near obsession. Further, Thorin Oakenshield does not feel himself beholden to anyone for his actions. Nor for that matter am I!" Gandalf retorted with some carefully controlled heat in his voice.

"It is not me you need to answer to," Elrond said, sweeping to one side as they entered the top of the spire. It overlooked a huge chasm to one side of Rivendell, a drop of some thousand yards going straight down, the faint noise of water barely rising to where they stood, a stone escarpment built out of this side of the chasm marked by large stone plinths. Above them the moon shown down, the night astonishingly clear, the light of it filling the area. Yet for all of that, neither Gandalf nor even Harry had any attention to spare for the view. No, their attention was on he woman who stood there, slowly turning from the chasm to look at them.

Never could Harry ever describe to his own satisfaction that first sight of the Lady Galadriel. She was tall and fair, fairer far than any woman Harry had ever seen or dreamed of. She was dressed in raiment of blue and white with golden hair that seemed to contain a light of its own cascading down her back in ringlets, with two long stands falling down either side of her chest. She had deep, compelling eyes set into a face, whose regal bearing no queen among Man or Elf could ever match. On her forehead was acircelt of silver, at her breast a large pearl.

With the moon streaming down on her,Galadriel exuded a noble majesty and power that could be felt like an almost physical blow far beyond what Elrond did. Or rather, Harry would later think, it was as if Elrond could perhaps hide his power inside himself, Galadriel could not.

Yet the part that Harry would never be able to describe later was the **feel** of the Lady. There was compassion there, understanding, not innocence or naiveté but a feeling of such powerful goodness that it practically shimmered in the air. Yet at the same time there was also good humor, amusement perhaps, and simple welcome and friendship as she looked at Gandalf then Harry and then back to Gandalf.

Gandalf too was struck dumb for a moment, and he walked two steps forward, his eyes locked on the woman. "Lady Galadriel."

"Mithrandir." she said, and even her voice was beautiful beyond Harry's ability to describe, deep and powerful as she spoke the Elven tongue. "It has been a long time."

"Age may have changed me, but not so the Lady of Lorien," Gandalf proclaimed, bowing his head slightly yet profoundly towards the woman.

As the eyes of the lady now switched entirely to him, Harry too felt compelled to speak, and he did so, bowing more deeply to this woman who he had just met than he ever had anyone else in his life. The words tumbled out of him, more poetic by far than he could ever have come up with before. "Far have I come milady, yet would I go still further to be in thy presence. The tales Gandalf have told of you have said much about your lands and your work of hand and mind, but he spared no words for your beauty, and seeing thee, it is obvious why, for no mere words could describe it to one who has not seen you for themselves."

Galadriel smiled at Harry's words, yet continued to look at him, and through him. Galadreil was the lady of Lothlorien, queen among elves thrice over, student of the Valar Yavanna and Aule, one of the First Born and the most powerful of the Noldor after Faenor himself. Born in Valinor she had walked that realm before the First Age before journeying to Middle Earth and had, after wedding Celeborn a kinsman of Thingol High King of the Sindar, and established first Eregion then Lothlorien, passing Eregion over to Celebrimbor before creating Lothlorien.

Of all the First born Galadriel had perhaps the most discerning eye. She had seen Melkor's machinations after his first defeat and subsequent 'atonement' for what they were, and wanted naught to do with him. She had seen in Faenor the madness which would eventually lead to his death, refusing his suit for her hand. And she had been wary of Annatar, the guise of Sauron as he attempted to gain control of the Noldor through their own creations.

And now she looked at Harry, and saw far more than even Gandalf had. She could feel the magic this young man held within him. But she was struck more by two other things. For one, there was his youth, which was somewhat startling in relation to the power of him, and was far more so than his appearance. Then there was those emerald eyes, eyes the like of which had not seen the like in literal ages. _Not since Faenor have I seen eyes like that, full of such power and life._

 _Yet for all his power I see no ego in this young man. I can also see goodness, and love, a penchant or perhaps a hunger for friendship and family over anything, based on old wounds and neglect perhaps?_

She could also see that the young mortal had been sharply marked by fate. Not a cruel fate perhaps, but a self-destructive one, and one he had overcome, a startling thing to realize. _And there is pain too, deeply hidden, but there, and powerful, along with grief and rage. This young man has been hurt deep inside, but hides it with his general attitude._

Before she could speak to him however another voice spoke up in a somewhat jocular yet serious voice, causing both Harry and Gandalf to look away from Galadriel, very reluctantly in both their cases. "The lady Galadriel is not the only one here, though I of course completely understand overlooking one such as I in her presence." That voice was powerful too in its own right, not so much commanding as simply one you had to listen to.

The speaker was a man who looked like Gandalf in many ways, old and bearded, wearing a white robe and with a staff in one hand. Yet there the similarities ended. Gandalf was weather-beaten, his robe frayed here and there despite being cleaned, his beard more natural looking than groomed. this man's face also was more austere, thinner and less outgoing even as he smiled. In fact Harry could see far more of Dumbledore in Saruman's face and body language than he had of Gandalf's, which caused his back to stiffen somewhat.

"Saruman," Gandalf said, smiling and striding over to clasp forearms with the other man. "I had not thought to see either of you here."

"Ah, when one goes to tickle awake a dragon my friend, one should always at least warn those who watch for such things," Saruman said with a another chuckle. "But before we get to this mission you have set yourself upon Gandalf, can you introduce us to your young companion? He is the one who has been using magic so profligately of late is he not?" Saruman asked, looking over with intense, one could almost have said covetous interest at Harry.

Harry's eyes flashed banishing the lingering feeling of Galadriel's aura of majesty and he moved over to the table sitting down and leaning propping his feet up on the table. "Mages and even half-elves seem to be so wedded to their dignity, yet I think you would look just smashing with perhaps a shinny gold beard, no neon pink robes. Your lack of bright colors displeases me. Almost as much as being talked down to."

"Can you do silver?" Galadriel asked before any of the others could speak, her lips twitching into a smile.

"For you milady?" Harry asked, then as she nodded, pointed at her. "Done."

They all felt the brief susurration of power, and Galadriel felt it actually impact her person, sticking there almost before she consciously allowed it to effect her. A further wave of Harry's hand and a small mirror appeared there, which he held out for Galadriel's inspection, and she saw he had indeed changed her clothing, not her hair, which she was thankful for. Her hair had been praised even by the Valar, and the idea of someone changing it was not one she wished to contemplate. "Hmm… you do magnificent work, but the color does not work quite as well as I would have hoped. Gold?"

"And what do I get for this service milady?" Harry asked, smiling at her.

"My momentary affection and undying constraint perhaps?" Galadriel replied back, arching an eyebrow.

"Hmm… not enough I think," Harry replied even as he used another color changing spell on her raiment.

"Then perhaps my nuisance to your attempts to, what is the term, prank these three worthies? And not quite, the gold of the cloth clashes horribly with my hair. Hmm… perhaps a different style then for my hair? And for that I might even deign to aid you in your efforts."

"Done!" Harry crowed, while the three men now looked rather horrified. An instant later Galadriel's hair style had changed into several long, extremely fine braids down her back and chest.

Chuckling Galadriel turned to the others, and suddenly all three were struck nearly numb with the feeling of awe filling them, her beauty entrancing even these powerful men for a brief instant. Before they could break out of it, Harry struck. His spells shot out as they jerked back, unable to gather enough of their own will to block his attempts.

His first spell changed Elrond's clothing to that of the character Puck from a Midsummer Night's dream, which Hermione had taken him to see once. The memory hit him once more, his eyes dimming as Galadriel watched, her own eyes still locked o his form though he did not know it. The moment passed quickly, and Gandalf once more found himself sporting a bright green beard. Saruman's however was worse, a bright pink monstrosity that had the man nearly apoplectic at the affront to his dignity.

"Excellent, but it is missing something…" Galadriel mused, one elegant finger coming up to tap her chin. "You seem to think in terms of colors, and small changes, such a… limited theater. Still you are young yet, I'm certain you'll grow out of it."

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, turning to almost but not quite glare at the elven queen. He couldn't seem to work up enough ire to truly glare at her.

"Yes, you think too small. You could have not just changed their clothing, but made them match perhaps, and instead of a neon beard, you could have shaved it off entirely. Then, perhaps beguile them to perform parts in a play?" Galadriel said, smiling beatifically as Saruman and Gandalf both squawked in outrage.

"Lady Galadriel please!" Elrond said, almost reaching over to shake her but thinking better of it.

In reality, while Galadriel was of the opinion that Saruman in particular needed to have his ego shrunk in no uncertain terms, she of course did have ulterior motives for going along with Harry's attitude. For one thing, she did enjoy pranks, though it had literally been Ages since she had ever done some herself. She was also no stranger to the odd ways Elves dealt with emotional pain, and felt that humans would be much the same. Elves sometimes tried to hide their pain in music, art, duty, or, yes, pranking. Just like Harry was using at right this moment. It also showed Galadriel some of what Harry could perform with his magic.

"I do not have nearly enough pipe-weed for this," Gandalf muttered, then glared at the two pranksters. "Go on, get it out of your system, But I'll warn you not to do anything to my beard beyond changing it's color. That is one touchy spot I have in common with our dwarven friends."

"Tsk, that takes all the fun out of it," Harry said, almost but not quite pouting, while his eyes locked on Saruman.

Saruman sighed, then waved his hands over his beard and clothing, changing them back to what they had been, his will overriding the spell. "Most interesting, if rather childish. Still, creating a permanent color change like that is impossible to do on one whose body is imbued with magic like ours."

He looked over at Elrond, then his lips twitched into a smile, which caused Harry to relax somewhat, the lack of only serving to draw Galadriel and Gandalf's attention to the original tension. Both wondered what that was about, but Saruman went on seemingly not having noticed. "Your clothing on the other hand, changing that back quickly is not going to be a quick task."

Elrond gritted his teeth, looking down at himself, then back at Harry who smirked unrepentedly at him, then at Galadriel, who chuckled, leaning back in her chair and leaving him to Harry's tender mercy. "Might I ask that you change my clothes back Harry? This… odd thing you have me wear seems built for either a small child or a woman, and it chafes something fierce."

When Harry opened his mouth, Galadriel moved at last, touching his shoulder gently from where she had sat down next to him. "Please do so Harry. I think it's time to be serious now."

Pouting Harry complied and Galadriel nodded while Elrond breathed a sigh of relief, moving to join the others at the table. "So, transfiguration, changing one thing to another and conjuration," she mused, pressing the conjured mirror into Harry's hand, watching as it dissipated between one second and the next. "Fascinating, and most definitely not from around here. So, where have you come from? You say you have traveled far, from where did your journey begin?"

"Not from around here," Harry replied dryly before wilting somewhat under Galadriel's look. He glanced over at Gandalf then back to Galadriel and then to the other two. "My personal tale is a long one, but the short of it is…"

Harry spoke for some time, with Gandalf interjecting what he had discerned of Harry's world and his brand of magic, as well as where he and Voldemort had been, caught between worlds. Throughout Elrond and Galadriel asked questions, both of a different sort. Elrond asked about his schooling, magic and the teachers, while Galadriel began to ask Harry some questions here and there about his friends. Saruman too asked a few questions, but as the story went on he fell silent, simply looking at Harry as if he was a puzzle Saruman had to unlock, or a treasure he wanted to find the key to. He was quick to cover that look however whenever Harry or any of the others looked at him.

Eventually Elrond nodded, leaning back and looking between Gandalf and Harry. "To hear there are other worlds beyond this one is an amazing thing, and one that has never felt the light of Eru Illuvitar too. Yet your words have the ring of truth to them Harry Potter, and your magics are amazing, an entirely different school than our own."

"And a world that while not as stepped in death or violence as our own is just as flawed by stupidity, arrogance and betrayal." Galadriel murmured, looking down at her own long, thin hands for a moment as she internalized all they had heard, matching Harry's words to what she had sensed from him. Doing so gave her a far better understanding of Harry the person than even Thorin could say he had. And in so doing, she found him precisely the same kind, gentle yet troubled man she had sensed.

"Yes, well, as fascinating as Harry's past is, and as stupendous his arrival, nay **momentous** , we did not in fact gather just to discuss the new magic user in Middle Earth." Saruman said, with a slow, thoughtful shake of his hand.

"Not just that at any rate," Galadriel said, smiling at Harry who smiled back. It was a real smile, a warm, caring yet shy smile which made her own lips broaden slightly before she turned back to the others.

"Indeed, what exactly were you thinking of Gandalf, trying to hide and even instigate this journey of the dwarves?" Saruman asked. "Even with young Harry's help, this mission is a parlous one, and many more people could pay for tickling a sleeping dragon."

Harry leaned back, clamping his jaw down on the joke that had just sprung to his mind hearing Saruman use Hogwart's motto, refraining with difficulty as he knew silence would lead him into a greater understanding of Gandalf's larger mission, and the discussion they had with Radagast. Across from him Gandalf quickly began to speak, covering several things that he and Harry hadn't talked about, Gandalf's long term concerns that the Necromancer was a worse threat than the White Council had thought.

What that meant, he didn't say outright, but the others seemed to understand what he was talking about. Indeed they seemed to look at Harry somewhat askance, but Galadriel and Gandalf both nodded, and the other two subsided, though Saruman's interest in Harry increased.

The discussion continued, with both Elrond and Saruman downplaying Gandalf's concerns, saying that the Necromancer was merely mortal. As Saruman finished taking a shot at Radagast for his love of mushrooms and how that made him a very dubious source of information. Gandalf paused, looking at his fellow wizard and the other two.

At that, Galadriel seemed to frown, staring at Gandalf. Harry's hairs stood on end for a moment, as something like an electric current flowed out from her for so brief a moment he would have been hard pressed to say it had been there at all.

Then Gandalf brought Harry's attention back to him with a thump as he reached into his robe and brought out the sword that Radagast had given him. He set it down on the table in front of them all and Harry hissed as the cold of the weapon seared through the scars on his hands, forearms and chest. The scar on his cheek too stung, but not overmuch.

He bit back a growl as the pain from the blade being this close was worse than what he had felt before, but his reaction was not the only one. Saruman's back straightened as he stared at the blade, Elrond moved from where he had been leaning against the balcony's banister, staring. "What, what is that?"

"A blade of Mordor," Galadriel said softly, her voice deep and powerful as she too looked at the blade with loathing. **"** Forged for the Witch King, and thence buried with him. This blade has not been seen since the men of the North buried him and all he possessed in the High Fells after Angmar fell." But then she turned to Harry swiftly going to her knees next to him. "Your hands, the scars react to the blade!"

"Yess…" Harry gritted out, "Which Gandalf knew. I'm going to have to hurt you later for this Gandalf!"

"I am truly sorry my friend, I had forgotten your reaction to the blade of the Ringwraiths. The touch of death is deep within Harry from his time fighting this Voldemort shade, you see." Gandalf said, though he moved aside as Elrond joined Galadriel at Harry's side.

Harry however had seen Gandalf's eyes. While they were apologetic, they were also firm, and Harry understood. The other White Council members might have not believed even the appearance of the blade. With Harry's reaction however, they knew it had been tainted by something beyond, like the shades these Ringwraiths were supposed to be. _And if they are involved, then Gandalf's concerns about Sauron might also be real. He used my pain, but the bastard at least did it for a good reason. I'll see how well he takes his thumps later before passing judgment._

"These are deep, and only half physical. The other half is mystical in nature," Elrond mused, working on Harry's scars. As this was his house, he took the lead when it came to dealing with wounds like this, though he liked to think he was actually a bit better at the physical side of things than Galadriel in any event, although he would bow to her in the realms of the mental.

Running one of his thumbs gently over the red, now raw looking scars, the pulsing which had gone through them seemed to fade, as Elrond's healing magic combated the cold beyond the grave which infused them. Galadriel did the same, both on Harry;s hands and on the others she could somehow sense under his clothing and between them the two were able to banish the pain for a moment. When they stopped it came back, but Harry could control it and stood up, moving away from the table.

He didn't see the looks that passed between the two elves, who had been able to tell a lot more in those brief touches than Harry would have believed possible given his limited understanding of their magic. The scars had been dealt by a being of incredible magical power and utter evil, the likes they had not seen since the Second Age. Indeed, in Galadriel's estimation this Voldemort fellow might have been more powerful than any two Ringwraiths combined beyond the Shadow King. Worse, the touch of death was so deeply entrenched both of them felt it would take many years' worth of healing and a lot of light-sided magic to do away with it.

"We have done what we can for your wounds Harry son of James," Galadriel said softly. "We have seen such things before, but your case is among the worst we have seen in literal ages. I however can see they can be healed given time. We will discuss this further after this meeting is over."

Harry thanked them both then began to move around the balcony, walking off the dull throbbing pain he was still feeling in his hands, cocking his head to the discussion which restarted swiftly. Now that the bonafides of the weapon had been proven beyond doubt, which Elrond put into words. "This blade was clearly carried by a Ringwraith then, and recently to, to be so imbued with the power of that which lies between life and death. And no man could ever command a Ringwraith, even one of the lesser five."

"I accede that point, and your concerns about the Necromancer were well founded." Saruman said quietly, his face set in a expression of sadness and regret as he looked over at the pacing Harry before looking back to Gandalf, one eyebrow rising in censure. But Gandalf merely nodded, acceding that he would have to pay for using his young friend like that and Saruman went on. "However, I think we cannot afford to concentrate our full attention on Dol Goldur. Moving against that fortress could blind us to other threats. The orcs of the mountains in the far north are gathering in force once more, their numbers nearly equal to what they were during the War of the Dwarves and Orcs **."**

"And I have had reports from the Rangers. Not many but bits here and there," Elrond said quietly staring down at the blade on the table as if he was willing it to melt. "Before this, I had not read much into it to my dismay, but now, now the organization the orcs and goblins might be putting into place they have spotted signs of seem far more believable."

"We ran into something like that," Harry said, rejoining the conversation, but making no move to come closer to the table. Galadriel joined him at the banister, touching his shoulder gently. Smiling at her Harry continued, explaining about the White Orc, his sending out packs apparently looking for Thorin, as well as the larger outpost of raiders he and Thorin had wiped out.

"That rather gives my worries more weight then." Saruman said, leaning back and thinking. "The White Orc might be a general for the resurgent Sauron. Though truly how much power could he have amassed without the One Ring at his command? With that gone from Middle Earth, carried out into the realm of Ulmo, his personal power will not be nearly as much as it was in past ages. The true danger will be in those he commands, the fear his aura can still generate, and his skill of mind and voice."

Gandalf was forced to nod at that. "Yes, if Sauron had regained his true strength I doubt Radagast would have been able to escape Dol Goldur as he did. But I would still prefer to assault Sauron himself at Dol Goldur before he can escape."

"I believe that to be a good idea" Elrond said thoughtfully. "However, Saruman is correct, the threat of his troops needs to be addressed. Further as Saruman said, we must remember that Sauron's most dangerous powers have always been guile, subterfuge and persuasion..."

"Exactly. Who is to say Sauron himself is at Dol Goldur at all? Why would he use an abandoned fortress that doesn't have as large a logistical base as he could find in the North?" Saruman said, his voice compelling and words logical.

Having no real idea of the map of this world Harry fell silent, simply listening as, to his surprise, did Galadriel. She only mentioned a worry about the ruins of Khazad Dum being used as a base of operations, which from her comments stretched through the mountains to near her own realm. For some reason at the mention of the ancient dwarven fortress all of them became even grimmer, nodding at her words and worried more about that idea than the idea of Sauron being at Dol Goldur in the first place.

As Harry listened, the White Council, or rather four of it's members, agreed to put a watch on the northern orcs, as well as to put a cordon up around the usable entrances to Khazad Dum. They lacked the strength to take it from the enemy, but they could at least keep it isolated for now. Indeed, none of the four were talking about military strength at all, which threw Harry for a moment, but he set that aside reasoning that they would need time to gather such forces.

When it came to direct action against Dol Goldur however, they could not agree, concerned that the Necromancer was but a feint for where Sauron was truly gathering his forces. Gandalf to his credit volunteered to scout out Dol Goldur on his own, which made Harry nearly volunteer to go with him. Gandalf might have manipulated Harry's injury to his benefit, but he also was willing to sacrifice himself for his mission, which made Harry respect him.

Still, he shook his head. "I really wish I could go with you, but I have a prior engagement as it were with Thorin and his band. Not only did I make Thorin a promise, I don't want to leave my friends in the lurch like that."

"Nay," Saruman countered. He would be one of those watching over Khazad Dum, while Elrond would be sending his sons to watch the north while remaining in Rivendell with Galadriel, ready to move the instant they were certain where Sauron was, goign so far as marshaling what military strength he had. "The march against the dragon is important Harry Potter, and I think we would all feel better to have a wizard there, even one who is not technically of the Wise. Although he would not respond to any but Sauron himself in person, we must keep them from meeting Smaug, if he can be roused at all."

Gandalf chuckled at that and nodded. "Indeed, and never fear, I will be with you until we are on the other side of the Misty Mountains **.** Indeed, I will set you and the dwarves on the path through Mirkwood before making my way south from there."

"Then why don't we move on the dragon first? Finish that mission then move together on Dol Goldur and whatever is there." Harry proposed.

Gandalf shook his head as did the other three. "We have lost too much time as it is. We need to know for certain what we are dealing with, and that means my going to Dol Goldur on my own."

Scowling Harry had to accede that point, as he truly had only the vaguest idea of the power this Sauron creature could bring to bear given time. Gandalf had told him about the wars of Numenor and the last war of Elf and Man, but he lacked any idea of what Sauron could do now after so much time. The fact he was almost certainly still around at all was worrisome enough on it's own though for Harry to understand the severity of the threat, especially when he considered the orcs and the sword which had apparently been used by one of Sauron's followers rather than the being itself.

"We should tell Thorin." He said instead, holding up a hand as all of them save Gandalf opened their mouths to protest. "I know that he personally cannot call upon any great force of arms, but he has connections among the remaining dwarven clans, and if the orcs in particular are stirring they need to be told."

"I do not agree with that," Elrond said, shaking his head. "The time is not yet come for force of arms. And the dwarves would not be quick to respond to even one of Thorin's pedigree on the scant information we have."

"Agreed. And remember, deception and betrayal were ever the most dangerous tools of the enemy," Saruman cautioned. "You and Gandalf vouch for this Thorin and I say very well to that, yet can you vouch for whoever he may tell? And further, how could he get a message to his connections as you put it? Any elf we send would perjure the listeners against the message."

Needless to say Harry lost that argument as well, though he saw a look pass between Elrond and Gandalf at that point, and he wondered what they had decided.

The discussion ended soon after that, but Harry was somehow not surprised to find Galadriel moving with him down the long, winding staircase back down into the rest of Elrond's home. "Come walk with me Harry Potter."

Nodding wordlessly Harry matched his step to her, letting Elrond, Saruman and Gandalf move off together, still speaking softly. Saruman would be leaving later that day to head towards the nearest entrance to Khazad Dum to start his watch, while Elrond would send for his sons and a score of others who he would send North. Gandalf would remain to prepare himself for the journey ahead, catching up with Harry and Thorin while they pushed through the mountains.

They would not be taking the High Road either, instead they would take several back routes through the mountains to try and keep from being noticed by the resurgent goblin clans. How likely that was Gandalf couldn't say, but he needed to talk over the route with Thorin and Balin and broke off from the other two quickly to search out the dwarves.

The Elven queen and dimensional vagrant were silent as they walked down the steps before heading down a hallway. From there Galadriel led the way through the forests of Rivendell. The silence between them was odd, warm and welcoming yet a different sort of companionable air than Harry felt around Thorin.

Eventually the two of them left the lights of the Homely House behind, though the music still reached them as it would wherever they were on the valley floor. Soon after that Harry followed Galadriel into a small clearing in the forest, a natural one from what Harry could see. There, Galadriel turned to him, taking one hand in his lightly as she looked into his eyes. "What was her name?"

The question came out so gently and so suddenly that it bypassed Harry's defenses entirely, cutting the word out of him before he could stop it. "Hermione. Her name was Hermione."

Harry looked away, realizing now what Galadriel had brought him out here for. A part of him resented it, while the rest of him wanted to bring his humor to bare to hide his pain. Too many people had been able to see it for his liking, and he really just wanted to avoid talking about it. Yet staring at the austere beauty of Galadriel, seeing the compassion on her face, visible in the moonlight almost like it was glowing, and the warmth of her hand on his, he could not look away.

Instead, the words came tumbling out at last as he faced his pain squarely. He talked about Hermione, how they had met, how he had attacked a troll to make up for not standing up for her, the years they had known one another. "We, we hadn't been together for very long, but she was, she was dear to me. and I saw her die, I saw the light disappearing from her eyes." Harry quivered as he said that, boiling in remembered rage and renewed grief, yet the tears would not come again as they had that first night in this word.

Galadriel fell silent as Harry spoke, looking at him. She was reminded that Harry, for all that he looked older, was actually quite young, having spent so many years locked in the Void **. "** Losing one so young cannot be easy," she said at last, "yet you say you had years together as her friend?"

As Harry nodded she went on. "You need to remember those times further, Harry Potter. Let the memory of them wash out the pain of her loss and leave it behind."

"But I don't want to, to forget her like that!" Harry protested, his voice somewhere between a cry of grief and a growl of anger at the very idea.

"I did not say that you should," Galadriel said soothingly, squeezing his hand lightly. "Instead you should not dwell on the pain of her loss, and further the loss of what you imagined the two of you would become over time. Would your Hermione want you to live your life always remembering what cannot be? Would you wish that for her?"

Harry twitched but made no response, looking away yet unable to tear his hand out of hers, despite her not actually trying to hold onto him. "No she would not." Galadriel answered her own question, pulling him to the center of the clearing, where she slid down to sit on the grass, looking natural sitting there despite her regal air as she pulled Harry down to sit in front of her. "Instead, tell me of the good times you shared together. Not as a courting pair, but as friends. Tell me of the laughter, of the times you stood together against any challenges that came your way. Tell me about Hermione the girl, not Hermione your prospective lover."

Hesitantly Harry began, but after talking about how they had initially met on the train to Hogwarts the stories seemed to tumble out of him. The stories then spread to his other friends, none of whom he would see again yet most of whom he knew were alive. Before he knew it the moon had moved across the sky and there was a faint light in the distance of the sun, whatever they called it here, rising in the sky.

Yet despite being tired, Harry felt… lighter almost, unburdened. His grief was still there, but it was no longer a raw, painful thing. He could now remember Hermione and the others without immediately thinking about how they died, without thinking about what he had lost.

Seeing this realization in Harry's eyes Galadriel smiled, rising with no hint of stiffness in her limbs. "I am happy for you, to have had such friends." As Harry stood up she touched his face gently. "You must remember however Harry Potter, you are young. Do not be so quick to seek to join those you lost in the lands beyond. There will be other friends, even other loves. Do not close yourself off to that possibility. Your heart is too noble to be forever alone."

Harry twitched, shaking his head as some of his humor came back to him, the real thing now rather than a shield against his grief. "I don't know about that considering I'm going to be travelling with dwarves and maybe living with them for some time if we win, which will be a tall order even if I'm not going to welcome death if it comes my way. Beards and extremely short, stout women just um, don't attract me." He finished, changing what he was saying so that Galadriel could understand his point.

"Ah, but you will not spend all your time among dwarves, will you? There is much of the magic of this world you have yet to learn Harry Potter, and you will have time to learn such."

"Well I suppose after several thousand years you would know all about that wouldn't you, grandmother." Harry quipped, earning himself a very light slap upside the head.

Shaking her head at Harry's returning sense of humor Galadriel smiled. "When you are done with aiding Thorin Oakenshield on his mad quest, come to Lothlorien my friend. You will find further healing for your hands, and time. Time to get used to your new life here, and to bid a final farewell properly to your past one."

Harry looked at her closely at that, knowing somehow this was beyond any kind of concern she would have been showing for a stranger, even if that stranger was a strange magic user with powers she had never seen. That there was something special about Galadriel inviting him to this Lothlorien place, which Gandalf had told him of briefly as being a nation of elves. "I, I will think about it."

Stooping down he picked up a handful of grass and concentrating transfigured it into a delicate white rose, which he held out to Galadriel. "I will think about it, and I… I am very thankful for your help tonight milady." He smiled then, his eyes turning almost intense as he looked away then back. "But if I am to do so, I will need to make certain that I and my friends survive. So if you will excuse me?"

Smiling Galadriel held up the rose to her nose, noting it felt real, but that Harry hadn't quite gotten the scent right. Still she nodded acquiescence and watched as the green-eyed wizard strode off, purpose radiating off him.

Still holding the rose to her face Galadriel turned her eyes out past the edge of the valley to the mountains. Slowly the smile slid off her face as she wondered what challenges her new friend Harry Potter would face before she saw him again. And what strange destiny had brought a Fate Marked from one world to their own.

 **OOOOOOO**

After meeting and discussing the changes to their routes through the mountain with Balin and Throin, Gandalf found himself walking along the river Anduin with its lord. "I would rather keep young Potter here to instruct him in the deep mysteries and the Valar if nothing else," Elrond said. He could feel where Galadriel had woven a subtle spell of healing for some reason in his woods, and knew she was doing what she could to bring out and then lance the pain and growing rage they could all see in Harry Potter, but beyond that, the young magic user's presence represented both an oddity and possible concern.

"Alas, I doubt that any such would work. While young Harry's powers come from his own being as it does mine or Saruman's, it does not need the flavor to it from following one or the other Valar. Despite that, I have no doubt that the Valar know of his presence," Gandalf replied.

Elrond stopped, searching Gandalf's face as he gave voice to one of the most disturbing worries he had about Harry's arrival in Middle Earth. "How certain are you that he was brought here by them and not sent by the Greater Darkness?" Morgoth had been banished into the Void after all, which all of them agreed was what he and this dead spirit named Voldemort had passed through.

"I am as certain as I possibly can be," Gandalf replied with a laugh, shaking his head firmly. "There have been too many coincidences since he arrived here. First meeting Thorin then myself, and finally the effect he has had on the dwarves, in particular Thorin. You did not know him before this, but I can tell you Thorin has mellowed considerably since their meeting. And it was Harry who brought out the fact that hobbits could remove the taint from things from questioning Bilbo. Further, you have to only spend a few hours in his presence to know he would never serve Morgoth or any of his followers."

"I agree with that I suppose. Still, whatever made you look in the hobbit's direction in the first place if you did not know about Yavanna's influence on them?" Elrond asked curiously.

Gandalf paused, then smiled as he watched Bilbo coming out of the homely House, his hobbit bow on his back and a quiver of new arrows in his quiver as he moved after one of Elrond's servants towards the practice range. "He gives me hope." He said simply. "If such a small being can have an impact it gives me hope for all of us."

He then shuddered slightly. "I have to worry however what Harry will do to me for having forgotten about how his scars reacted to being near that sword."

Elrond shuddered, moving perceptively to one side as he recalled the outfit he suddenly found himself wearing. "Ahh, yes well better you than me there."

 **OOOOOOO**

Saruman left Rivendell as Harry returned from his night spent talking to Galadriel, smiling and waving farewell to Elrond and many of his elves who Saruman had befriended over the decades. As soon as he was out of the valley and away from any eyes however Saruman's expression turned calculating, stern and distant.

 _Young Harry son of James will bear watching, close watching. His magical abilities are beyond anything I have ever seen, yet perhaps I can duplicate some of it._ Saruman thought as he rode along. _Not his childish color changing spell of course, but the conjuration of solid objects. I am a follower of Aule after all, creating should be well within my abilities now that I know it is possible. Transfiguration would probably be easier to start with however. And I must never let word of this ability spread to Sauron._

Shaking his head, Saruman had to mentally nod his head at Gandalf's gambit. Using the young wizard's wounds like that had been harsh, but it combined with Harry and Gandalf's words about where he had been in the beyond had convinced Elrond and Galadriel of the veracity of the blade Radagast had handed off. From there, Saruman had been fighting a losing battle trying to convince the others to not move against Sauron. Still, he thought he had done enough to let Sauron escape.

Letting Sauron live was a necessary evil at this point, since it would give him time to find the One Ring. If Sauron was banished entirely, the One Ring would lose much of it's power. Yet once Saruman possessed it, he could use it to could banish Sauron forever, claiming his power for his own. _And then I will take his place, I will rule this word through guile, vision and word rather than brute force, no longer will the races be allowed to go their separate chaotic ways. It will be better for all that a strong hand guides Middle Earth, and I am that hand…_

 **OOOOOOO**

The dwarves left the next day, their ponies and their own backs laden with all the goods the elves had been able to lend them for the day. Bilbo and Kili were particularly happy, given the elven-made arrows that filled their quivers. Even the dwarves who had the least time for elves, Dwalin and Bombur, could only grumble about the lack of meat which had been added to their supplies. The only real pall over the company was the fact Gandalf would not be with them for a few days. Despite that, and the knowledge they would be keeping to harder, less-travelled routes through the mountains, the party left Rivendell in good spirits.

Thorin sat in his pony at the head of the company, Dwalin and Bilbo taking up the rear of the column, waiting for Harry. His pony too was ready and packed, but the young human had yet to be seen since being led off by Gandalf the day before. Bofur put the dwarves concerns for their friends into words. "So have we lost both our magic users? I would have thought young Harry at least had enough stone sense to not be caught by the wiles of this place, no matter how subtle."

"Ah, but there are wiles, and then there are charms Bofur. The trick is always to tell the difference between them." Harry said as he came down one of the paths leading into the square. He looked tired, somewhat bedraggled. Yet for all his seeming tiredness, there was an almost jaunty edge to his steps as he moved to his pony, swinging up into the saddle with more enthusiasm than skill. The pony whickered irritably, huffing out air but made no move to try and buck him off as Harry took up the reins.

Looking over at his human friend, Thorin smiled slightly, the expression hidden by his beard. Something had changed in Harry, a weight was gone from his shoulders almost, his eyes seemed clearer. There was still the glint of the devilish humor he had been using as a front for his grief, indeed it seemed magnified, or perhaps purer, not so cracked and jagged. The grief it seemed had gone.

"And what did you spend the night working on Harry?" Thorin asked, flicking his reins with one hand as he held up the other in a clenched fist. The company all began to move with Thorin and Harry leading the way.

"Oh, this and that, cracked open my rune carving set. Let's just say I've begun to really think ahead, tried to figure out what small arrays I could create to help us on our way. Some simple glow stones for night, protective arrays we can set around the camp at night as I did for the two of us before we entered the Shire. This many people meant I had to power and enlarge the array somewhat and I'll need to renew the power of each stone every night."

As the dwarves began to gape at him, Harry continued, counting off points on his fingers. I also came up with one shot protective arrays that will act like a shield against blows, though the number of blows they'll stop vary, so they aren't perfect. Another few that may serve to ward off animals, cover our scents, that kind of thing. I couldn't figure out how to create an offensive runic array, but I think this will give us an edge no one should expect. We won't be able to use them at first against the dragon, but according to the Lady Galadriel orcs won't be able to sense the magic in them."

Thorin chuckled, reaching over to clap Harry on the shoulder. "Aye Harry, that sounds amazing indeed. As does the fact you're thinking long term as you put it." His words might have been light, but the look in his eyes was not, and Harry understood the hidden meaning of his words. Behind them Balin too smiled as did a few of the other dwarves who had realized how damaged Harry had been internally before their arrival at the Last Homely House.

Harry chuckled dryly. "Yes, well, the Lady Galadriel helped me get over my grief and anger at my friends passing. And that I was letting my grief stop me from remembering the good times. I don't know, it seems easy to say, but I couldn't think of it before she told me it. She also offered to open her home to me when we are done."

At Thorin's quizzical look, Harry explained, and Thorin nodded slowly, awed by the idea that the Lady of the Wood would let a human into her realm. As far as he knew that was something that happened literally once an age. Still, to Thorin it didn't matter much, at the moment. "Aye, that's for later though lad."

"True," Harry said with a laugh. "Time enough for any thoughts along those lines after the dragon is dead and you and yours have reclaimed your halls."

"Now there's a plan I can get behind," Thorin replied, a grim laugh coming from his own lips as they both turned their attention to the trail leading up and further up into the mountains.

 **End Chapter**

A shorter chapter than most of mine I realize, but I don't have the goblin town scenes right. It's a big battle, yes, but it is also one happening entirely underground and with an entirely different environment than I've used before. Also have to think hard about how this Bilbo will react to Gollum etc. I am not pleased with the notes I have on that meeting at this point.


End file.
